Following a Renault Scenic the other day, I was unable to miss the signs in the back window. These were to indicate that there was something on board, though I could not of course see because of the fucking signs. Each adopted a different terms for enlightening me, the reader, that the car contained flesh - not necessarily human.
The first diamond shaped piece of card stated Princess On Board. Immediately this conjured up (as it does now) an image of a spoilt little brat, wearing something pink, who gets ballet lessons on a Saturday morning before stroking a pony. The fact that there was a 'Princess' (rather subjective, I'd say) on board was irrelevant to me - all I cared about was there being a cunt who could drive, sitting behind the wheel - and a bit faster would have helped!
Next to the diamond was a triangle, stating Child On Board. Now, this was a potential complication, because I could not be sure if this related to a second child within the confines of the metal shell travelling at a painful 40mph on the bypass. It may have been a further announcement to confirm that the Princess was in fact a child (rather than of the Princess Anne age group). Or, it could have related to a second occupant, a mere 'child', and not royalty. [I was trying to resist the temptation to mention a mere 'cat', but I've given in now - sorry.] So, I had established the car contained either a girl who was a Princess, or a Princess of indeterminate age accompanied by another child of indeterminate sex, though likely to be a commoner since no reference to royalty/nobility was included in the triangle.
A third sign was occupying space in the rear window - and the shape was unusual; I suspected an attempt at a chimp's head, because the sign said Cheeky Monkey On Board. I wondered whether the driver was a primate (unable to drive above 40mph) and his/her spouse a human, so that the offspring could conceivably (get it?) be classed as a monkey, but dismissed this as a bit far fetched. This took me no further forward (bit like following the fucking car) in my assessment of the occupants. It could be a single person, a child Princess, who was a 'cheeky monkey'. Three signs for one spoilt brat would fit, but the last sign would have been rejected by her, so on reflection I decided there were multiple occupants. The cheeky monkey could have been the child of course. Or, it could have been a third child. Or, it could have been a pet monkey! If there were two children aside from the Princess, did each know his or her description, as detailed on the back window? Monkey or Child - which is best? No, it was not time for a 'fight' like on Harry Hill's TV Burp. I suspected that if there were two kids involved, the cheeky monkey actually felt superior, as it is a term of endearment rather than being derogatory. Being a plain 'Child' in a household that contained a Princess and a Monkey would have been rather grim. The boy or girl will no doubt grow up with issues. Maybe the child was a cheeky boy, who had sticky-out-ears, and was on the way to being a 'queen' in older life, so for the time being was a Princess? Or, there was always the chance, I thought, that the Child and Monkey were one and the same. Permutations, permutations [ that's not a confusing property programme ].
So, I summarised to myself that apart from the driver, there could be one, two or three other occupants, and I became annoyed at the pointlessness of three signs. They added nothing to my knowledge, and even less to the driver's ability to see me through the rear view mirror. I then had a horrible thought - could the signs refer to the driver? Princess Anne was dressed as a monkey, and driving a child somewhere - unlikely; we all know Princess Anne would drive at more than 40mph. A child, then, dressed as a monkey was chauffeuring a Princess (never heard it called that before!) to pony club - unlikely. I was coming to realise that I may never find out the true state of affairs - other than the Scenic route was not the quickest!
As luck would have it, an opportunity arose to overtake the blue Renault. I was of course careful to avoid ramming the fucking car (something I would surely have done if the signs had not dissuaded me from such a course of action) and I successfully manoeuvred my vehicle past the Princess's carriage. What did I see?
No one in the back. Cunt driving. I considered swerving and pushing it off the road, but thought better of it. I wished I had a sign in my rear window that said 'A Twat Is Reading This'.
...
No comments:
Post a Comment