Life Lessons

Road hog

If I’ve almost killed one student, I’ve almost killed a thousand of the ignorant fuckers. Living near a university campus means a day barely passes when I don’t find myself bearing down on some undergrad or other before pulling over onto the side of the road to sick up into my own lap with terror. This, though, has sod all to do with the state of my driving. It’s all about the inability of said Pot Noodle enthusiasts to tear themselves away from their mobile phones before leaping from the kerb.

Tell you what, for what should be the most intelligent group of people in the country it isn’t half heavily populated with idiots. Or the suicidal. I haven’t yet decided which. Either way, they step, lemming like, into the road with such frequency that I’m wondering whether the local byways should  be populated with emergency telephones like the Golden Gate Bridge.

What the fuck is wrong with these individuals? Exactly how hard can it be to check the road before stepping onto it? And what in the fuck is happening on their phones that’s so much more important than protecting themselves from the bus that’s hurtling towards them? They must be in receipt of some stunning information, if it’s enough to blind them to a steaming river of vans and lorries.

I dunno, perhaps they’re furiously texting state secrets or receiving incoming messages about the development of their terminal cancer. Surely, these emergency missives wouldn’t contain anything as unimportant as pictures of kittens wearing moustaches or offers at Bargain Booze.

Seriously, driving a car around here is like a test of endurance. And being aware of the idiocy of the local undergrads I’ve developed a road awareness of Olympic proportions. Yet, astoundingly, it’s still not enough. Exactly how many times have I reversed in a car park, after several checks of my mirrors and blindspots, only to suddenly find my rearview window filled with the whites of a student’s eyes? Too fucking many. That’s because it doesn’t matter how careful you are. A lecture-bunker could leap out at any given moment, like demented flashers, from the bushes.

It’s hard to believe that these festering gimps will one day run the country, lead our government or develop our cities. If their foresight is anything to go by we’re fucked. Armies of fascists could be scrambling their way over Dover cliffs and they wouldn’t notice.

Of course, all this is based on the premise that these people are still alive 20 years from now. At this rate, that’s laughingly unlikely. So rather than braking, perhaps I should be revving. Something tells me I’d be doing the nation one fuck of a favour.