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"Here in my car", said 80s pop hero Gary Numan, "I feel safest of all". He obviously never shared the same stretch of road as me, then. Automotive tales of mirth and woe, please.

(, Thu 22 Apr 2010, 12:34)
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"I'm a small man in some ways, Bart. A small, petty man"
Have you ever trundled around a car-park, spotted that magical final space off in the distance, only to get closer and find - Balls! - It's useless, because a quarter of it is taken up by the enormous 4x4 nob-extension in the adjoining space, which someone appears to have swung into the gap blindfolded? I know I have. What follows is a tale of small, petty revenge, and would probably benefit from hefty editing and a bloody good proofread.

So a few weeks ago, I was visiting a generic public building. As I drove in, I found myself behind an aforementioned behemoth-on-wheels. A massive car which appeared to have at least three storeys and its own postcode. At one point I was able to switch off my engine and let this car's gravitational force pull me along. Anyhow, crap reconditioned yo-mamma jokes aside, this huge car was in front of me. And we both needed a parking space.

He spotted the last two spaces. And, luckily for him, they were together. Did he carefully pull into one space, leaving the other for me? Did he buffalo. He swung into the vague general area of the gap and switched off the engine, taking up one and a half spaces, rendering one space useless to any car whose driver was planning on opening any doors.

I was narked. However, I also needed a space. With the sort of concentration only usually seen on the face of a teenager on Kick Start trying to ride his scrambler across a narrow beam, I immediately shoe-horned myself into this remaining 'space' that he'd left me. As soon as I was in, I realised I couldn't get out without undergoing a squeeze of torture-chamber proportions. But that was OK; Neither could he.

"Sod the rush" I thought. "Let's see what happens next". Veeeery carefully, Dumptruck O'Bastard opened his door. He knew I was still in the car, and so he couldn't fling it open with gay abandon, or even bi-curious abandon. Out squeezed a ginormous blob of a man. Gingerly, he manoeuvred his way between the cars, tiptoeing as much as a man his size could, the look of concentration on his face only usually seen on the face of a teenager on Kick Start trying to buy porn. It was like watching a barefoot man stepping through a minefield liberally sprinkled with turds. The entire agonising operation took over a minute. A minute during which, hopefully, one car-park sociopath realised what he puts the rest of us through every day. Hopefully.

Then another car left so I fucked off and took that space instead.
(, Wed 28 Apr 2010, 17:13, 7 replies)
Crap story, but the writing is absolutely fucking superb.
Worth every word. Clicked.
(, Wed 28 Apr 2010, 17:48, closed)
this video is probably bullshit,
but relevant
(, Wed 28 Apr 2010, 18:06, closed)
Best-written story so far
I clicked
(, Wed 28 Apr 2010, 18:15, closed)
Whenever i come across the space and a bit parking fuckwits
I will always, if the opportunity arises, park my near side as close as possible to the drivers side of their car (we're talking overlapping wing mirrors). I'll then jot down their reg just in case they think a scrape is in order and carry on about my business with a warm feeling inside knowing they will be calling me a cunt and everything else whilst they struggle over the seats from the other side. Fuck em, they shouldn't have parked like a twat in the first place.
(, Wed 28 Apr 2010, 18:21, closed)
I do the same
...it can hardly be our fault if they can't park can it? If they can park and are just general inconsiderate twats then fair play too.

(, Wed 28 Apr 2010, 19:45, closed)
There's a South African cunt at work.
He drives an Audi (coincidence?) and he is completely incapable of parking in the middle of a marked space.

My new car is somewhat narrower than my previous one, so I take full advantage of that. A few weeks ago I swung into the space I usually use (they're not assigned; I'm just a creature of habit) and noted that Eugene Terreblanche's car was next to mine, with barely enough space between our cars to swipe a credit card. Couldn't have done that with my previous ride. I mentally shrugged and wandered along to my desk. He had ample room next to his passenger door if he wanted to get in his car. Besides, my shift ended earlier than his, so I'd be gone before he'd need to drive again.

Later that day, while outside with a colleague taking in caffeine and fresh air in equal measure, Eugene approached us and asked if I'd move my car since it was blocking his driver's door.

"Crikey, you parked a bit wide there, mate. Did you mean to?"
"Yeah, I always park like that because I don't want anyone else parking next to me."

The car park at work is quite large, and staffing levels are quite low, so there are always many spaces free. If Eugene wants to park like a cunt, he could easily pick a space 15 seconds' walk further away from the office door. But he's too lazy to do so.

That old Spitting Image song was right.
(, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 0:57, closed)
thin narrative
but quality analogies. tick VG
(, Thu 29 Apr 2010, 0:46, closed)

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