Three Hours

Last night’s drive home was – to be blunt – an utter fucker. I left the office at 4.30, and got home at 7.30. Three hours for a journey that usually takes an hour.

And why?

Because some bell-end Audi driver had screwed up in his judgement of time/space, pulled in from the outside lane to the middle carriageway of the A14, and collided with a truck. The damage? The rear bumper of the Audi had been pulled off.

But, because the Audi-driver was a bell-end, he and the truck driver decided to stop and exchange details. In the outer two lanes of the A14. Neither of them had the common fucking sense to pull over to the lay-by that was in clear view less than half a mile away, oh no. Instead, they had to block two lanes of high-speed rush-hour traffic by being – and let’s call a spade a fucking spade here – cunts. And stupid cunts at that.

The traffic jam that resulted from these two fuckwitted bastards went all the way back past Cambridge – if you look at this map, the accident happened where the red circle is (top right corner) and the queues eventually went back to Milton. (if not further) Impressive, isn’t it?

And all because two drivers are fuckwits. I seriously hope the police/courts take the licences off both of them – admittedly, no criminal offence was actually committed, so it’ll never happen, but sometimes, just sometimes, you really wish there was an offence of criminal fucking stupidity. These two would’ve earned it.