How not to drive

Had a bit of an automotive incident this evening. Not to put to fine a point on it, and borrowing from popular rallying parlance, I spunked my car off the road into a telegraph pole.

Now, before you start, I wasn't speeding. I was under the speed limit for the road, although under oath I would probably say I was driving a little too fast for the conditions (although the car felt fine until this moment). I passed a couple of pedestrians on a country road, and at that split second my fuel light came on. In the second I glanced at it and back, I was on top of a sharp left corner. I put the anchors on, tried to go left then right, had none of it and punted the pole at about 10mph. Oops.

There is no obvious damage to me or the car (although I appear to be suffering some old man-esque aching in the lumbar region). The biggest harm has undoubtedly occurred to my ego, as I have had to concede that my driving skills aren't up to the Lauda standards I previously believed.

Being serious for a minute, I'm genuinely glad the Mrs and cats weren't with me at the time, as I should be the sole victim of my indiscretions, but it does concern me how easily I came off the road. Aside from ever-so-slightly bumping into someone who set off then stopped at a roundabout, I've had a flawless record in 11 years driving, but it just goes to show that if all of the necessary conditions come together, all hell can break loose.

So there you have it; an embarrassing moment which could have been much, much worse. If I've learnt anything, and if I could pass on any advice to others, it would be this:

Make sure you ALWAYS wear decent kecks when you're driving. You never know if you're gonna be cut out of a wreck, and if you are, you want to be wearing decent bills.

Fashion? Gashion more like

Why can't I buy a normal short-sleeved shirt any more? At one time, your choices were straightforward: long sleeves or short sleeves. I have a penchant for the shorter variety (no jokes) so I opted for the latter.

These days, though, the only short sleeves you can get are these mock rolled-up affairs that make you look like an extra from Hollyoaks. Call me a traditionalist, but if I want rolled up sleeves, I'll roll my fucking sleeves up.

I went looking for a new shirt the other day (see, it does happen) but I couldn't find any normal clothing. In fact, most togs these days seem to be designed for anaemic, drainpipe-legged millionaires, possibly with a liking for inappropriate hats. You can stick that lot up your arse, pal.

In conclusion, could someone, anyone whose job it is to design clobber please spare a thought for the common man; he who doesn't want to look like a Razorlight groupie, but someone who wants to look smart and make the most of his class A backside. Amen.

Can you imagine what they would actually be like?

I'm loving the story of this thick Manc bint who invented 7 kids in quick succession in order to claim benefits, and actually walked away with £40k before the Feds caught up with her. Apparently she invented quads, and at one point rang twice in six days to say she'd dropped another, and not one check was done on her at the time.

The Inland Revenue said that they give out the brass on a trust basis, often because the applicant is desperate for the money. Maybe so, but surely their systems would have picked up the most pregnant woman in history as she slept on a bed of fresh twenties. Ridiculous.

She's gone down for 10 months in what is being seen as a landmark case and an opportunity for the authorities to put the frighteners on other potential cheats. Fair play, says I, especially when her defence suggested her sister-in-law had come up with the scheme in exchange for a cut of the profits. Nobody in the world is that big a victim, where they're forced to make up kids and live of the affluent returns. Sorry love, you were caught bang to rights.

What's the betting she phones from her cell in a few days cos she's up the duff again?

If anything, I want to ram you more

How annoying are those little signs people hang in their car windows? We've got 'Baby on board', 'Little person on board' and even 'Grandchild on board'. I'm yet to fully understand what difference that makes. You don't see a lot of new-borns being rammed off the road anyway, so if anything these signs can only antagonise other (normal) drivers.

However, by far the worst of these signs are from supposed adults, especially ones like 'Little Princess on board'. Not to put to fine a point on it, they well and truly *£@## the living £@**# out of me. Seriously.

What sort of pretentious gimp sports one of these numbers in their car? What message are they trying to get across? I can only presume they're spoilt little brats who think they're somehow special and maybe even above us common folk. If that's the case, then why are they driving these rubbish little hairdressermobiles? Surely royalty like this will be bezzing about in a Roller or Chrysler Neon.

It's one thing to think you're brilliant, but it's quite another to display your delusions of grandeur in the back of your 'car'. Grow up.

The (s)hit parade

The charts is a right old joke these days. Surprisingly I'm not talking about the amount of R 'n' B in it. Nor do I refer to Radio 1 giving the gig to Fearne and Reggie. I'm actually on about the fact that downloads count towards your chart placing.

Now on paper, this is a good idea. Electronic transfer of music is the state of the art these days, so it would be incredibly ignorant for those sales to be left out. However, rather than only counting downloads of recently-released songs, the download of ANY track available at the designated outlets counts. Ridiculous.

When Peter Kay and Little Britain did the Proclaimers charity record, the original record actually made it back into the charts due to the amount of dullards downloading the wrong one. Theoretically, with the right amount of downloads, any track from any time ever could be number one. The charts have been a bit of a misnomer for some time now, but this sort of thing completely removes any element of respect left for this once crucial gauge of your musical success.

The latest is that with Christmas coming, a lot of people will hear tracks they like, download the mothers and the charts will be effectively a Christmas album. Personally I think that might be quite good, at least for novelty value. Then again, the downloads for Cheeky Christmas haven't been counted yet...

Harold Bishop must be spinning like a top

I absolutely love this story of the canoeist who disappeared, only to turn up 5 years later asking if he was a missing person. Meanwhile his wife has cashed the insurance and cleared off to Panama. 5 minutes later, photos of the pair on holiday rock up from last year and the whole charade falls apart like a Derby County defence. Hilarious.

I must admit I was initially suspicious when this bloke knew his name but nothing else about who he was or where he'd been. And the fact that he turned up 5 years later, rather than a more random time seemed a bit suspect as well. Call me a traditionalist, but if I was trying to defraud the insurance company with an elaborate disappearance, I'd be less inclined to pose in publicity shots for a timeshare company. Pillocks.

Possibly the most amusing part of this whole farce is the fact that their two sons were allegedly clueless about the caper, and are now in full-on tits-out mode about being left in the dark. The press are going to great pains to suggest that the sons might actually be in on it though. Let's face it, their family doesn't exactly have a stellar record in the whole honesty stakes, does it?

I'm sure in hindsight, they would do a lot of things differently. Not getting caught would be a start. Not being completely shite at pretending to have amnesia might work as well. Maybe next time they should disappear in Portugal - nobody ever gets found again over there. Zing.