Why Are Slow Drivers Always in Such a Hurry to Get in Front of Me?

Ah! Not you again! Bar-steward!

You're at it again this morning. You come rocketing out of that road junction, like there’s no tomorrow. One of these times there won’t be. You’ll get shunted all the way to Tipperary - and that’s a long way.

Are you in a hurry? Or are you just in a hurry to get in front of everybody else?

Don't mind me, you old scroat - or what The Highway Code says about considering other road users!

I should get this car adapted to fire missiles, like James Bond, but I don't suppose they’ll have 'Exocet' in Yellow Pages. They could have them on special offer, like when you buy tea bags. I'd wait for the two-for-one offer, and if I missed you with the first one, I'd get you with the other! (I'm not talking about the tea bags, now.)

And now that you’ve managed to commandeer The Queen's Highway, all to yourself, - don’t worry your fat little head, I know the routine. You’re gonna chug along at a snail’s gallop, the idea being, no doubt, that the rest of the human race should fit in with your pace of life.

So, if you’re not really in a hurry, why were you in such a hurry to get out in front of everybody else? Maybe one day, you’ll explain the logic. After your operation of course - you know the one; that one, where they extricate you from your own chuff - being so far up it, as you are, that you're unaware any other human being exists.

Are - you - in - a hurry - or - not? You - old - scroat! I don't even know what a scroat is. I think it's a London expression; that place is full of old scroats. Maybe it's short for scrotum. What do you think - you old twatum?

You can't be in a hurry. If you were in a hurry, you'd drive at a reasonable speed - now that you've jammed your phut-phut in the way of everyone else. And if you weren't in a hurry - why did you ram your phut-phut into the path of everyone else? Explain the logic!

Make up your mind. Say to yourself, "if I'm in a hurry - if this is a dire emergency, I've good reason, to bash out in front of other road users, making them regurgitate their breakfasts, and sprain their ankles on their brake pedals. If it's not an emergency - it might not be a good idea, to drive in such a way that I'm likely to cause an emergency."

Ask yourself, "Am I in such a tremendous hurry, (of course, no one else is), that I don’t have time to consider who has ‘right of way’ - even though, whoever it is, it isn’t me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had to jam my fat chuff out in front of everyone else - and almost cause a pile up, the way I did. Should I care if other people have lives to live too? Should I consider the possibility that they may be more than just the window dressing of my illustrious existence? Like the Planets are to The Sun, or as flies are to pooh!" (Choose the latter, it suits you best.)

"But now that I have full possession of the sacred tarmac, to do with as is my wont - I - now - deem - it - so... cha cha cha... phut, phut, phut - that - I - am - no - longer - in such a hurry after all. So, I shall just trundle along, self-obsessed. Here I trundle, in my own little phut-phut world, thinking only of me, and of my wants, and desires, and dreaming of all the nice things that I can do to please me. Me - of course being the only important thing the World has ever been blessed with.

"And when I get to the next junction, and everyone behind me wants to turn left (UK and New Zealand drivers only, please - [and Gibraltar of course]), I'll want to turn right - of course. As usual - I'll jam my anal-retentively polished little vroom-vroom right into the middle of the road, so that no one can turn left - while I take all day as I contemplate turning right, - such - as - is - my - desire."

Well, I’m gonna get past you, you old scroat - before you get to that next junction!

Aw, feck. Here we go. The usual - the same old routine, slow on the bends, and every time I try to pass, you speed up, until something comes the other way. Then - of - course - you - slow - down - to a - crawl - again. Bar-steward!

That just proves there’s nothing wrong with your car, apart from the butt-plug that’s driving it. Not that I know what a butt-plug is - mind you. Butt, I'll know one when I see one, because it'll look just like you! You're so far up your own chuff - what else would you look like?

Hoi! No! No! Fe-eck no! Don't! Don't slow down to let that pratt out in front of you! His top speed is 30mph on a good day. If he remembers to take the handbrake, off. Bar-stewards!

(Parp! Parp! Parp-arp!) Gawd - at least his hearing's ok.

Listen, Elmer Fudd. Yes you! Do you hear me lookin' at ya'? As-pidistras! Could you - and Mr McGoo there, pedal a bit harder - please? I need to renew my road license - next June - and at this rate, I don't think I'll get to the Post Office on time!