West African Parking Attendants
Fuck me, London has gone to rats since Red Ken took over. So much so that "Welcome to London, have a nice parking ticket" has been adopted as the new 2012 slogan.

Anyway, having been stung repeatedly outside a certain London hotel I made the effort recently to politely ask one of the "gentleman of foreign persuasion" in a fetching blue uniform (not sure if I should say foreign cunt dressed like a sack of shit in QOTW as a description for London's finest) where I should park my new Merc as my ticket was about to expire.

*mumble*, ticket, *unitelligable*, move car forward into next space was the reply, which I took to mean just move my car into the next space and purchase another ticket, which I duly did. Anyhow, I goes into the hotel and thought fuck it, I am going to go back out and check on my car just to make sure. 2 minutes later and sure as eggs are eggs the slippery little fucker had hid behind a tree and was ticketing me for "not parking within a defined space", AKA the two front wheels were over the line next to the meter where obviously I couldn't park anyway and where I had been instructed to do so.

Ok, this is unsporting to say the least. The response this time was *mumble* ticket * unintelligable* supervisor *something about dust* my fault. OK, now I have a £70 ticket. Fuck it, the car can stay there - I have paid for it.

So, I goes into my meeting, 20 minutes later, I come out again. This time Dr. Dre in rags has had me clamped. Explanation? *mumble* clamp *unitelligable* no ticket. OK, fuck this for a game of soldiers. I have now been clamped for not purchasing a ticket, despite the fact I had already received a penalty notice. Apparently if no ticket is purchased within 15 minutes they clamp you.

Now I am pissed. I went back into the hotel, got my bags, checked out and went to my car. Except no car. Mr Lover Man had it towed for still not displaying a ticket within 30 minutes of me being clamped.

That made me transform from Mr. Nice into Mr. Sweary. I wasn't best pleased but his feeble attempt to "tell me off" was the highlight of the day.

I shouted so much he fell over, his hat and tickets blowing all over the street. I can still remember the sight of him cowering, repeatedly flashing me with his digital camera and crying "talk to ticket. Talk to ticket, Please mister no hurt my job".

Man down, call for backup....

Those fuzzy wuzzies, they don't like it up em you know. I would have liked to see those pics though. I ended up leaving the car there for the company to sort out and flew back to Cornwall that night.

I would like to dedicate this post to the hard working men and women of Westminster city council. Fuck you. Fuck you all.

*edit* my therapist says I was very traumatised by the whole incident and I have "anger issues". Bitch. After I had finished beating her she soon changed her mind.
(Mong The Merciless Older not wiser, Mon 24 Sep 2007, 14:04, Reply)