Normally, you’d think that the car park for my office is a fairly secure place.

It’s on a small industrial estate, and has big barred gates (allbeit ones that are open through the day) that have notices on about “No unauthorised entry” and the like. It’s fairly small, and I tend to park in the corner of it, due to usually being one of the first to arrive.

Today though – and this is on the account of the people who saw it, I didn’t – some fuckwit old bastard came in to our carpark while (apparently) visiting the Post Office sorting office next door, swung round into the parking space next to mine, and put a scratch down the side of my car. He then backed out, pulled away, went into the sorting office, did whatever he had to, and fucked off. No attempt was made to come into our office and say “Sorry” or anything.

It’s not a big scratch, and it really just joins the collection. Fortunately I’m not precious about my car, and – as I’ve always said before – plan to drive it into the ground, so one scratch more or less isn’t really relevant. I should probably get them fixed, but with the time I spend driving (and thus nowhere near, for example, a body shop) I can’t be arsed. Maybe sometime in 2010. Maybe.

But all the same, I’m pissed off. I know I’ve scraped another driver’s bumper and not done anything about it, but that was in a multi-storey car park in the middle of London. Yes, I could’ve left a note on the windscreen or something, but I didn’t. But here it’s a car-park for one office building (which only has one company in it) so it’s a bit different.

So all told, I’d just like to say that the driver of the car with the registration M521BNH is an utter, utter cunt. He’s also bloody lucky he didn’t do it to either of the director’s cars – currently a Bentley Continental, a Porsche and a fucking boat-like Audi Q7.