SURE, there were only five cars in the car park, and I could have parked in 280 other places so you didn’t have to squeeze in through your driver’s door. But I had a good reason for parking right next to you.
I’m lonely
I don’t have any friends, and modern life can be so cold and alienating. Your Ford Probe is an oasis of human warmth and kindness in an uncaring universe. Can I have a hug? Nothing sexual, I just need the human contact. D’you want to see Elf with me at the local multiplex? Oh, you’re driving off hurriedly. That’s cool, mate.
I love you
I saw you get out of your car as I drove in and it was as if an angel had fallen from Heaven. Now I’m stalking you round the supermarket. If you’re getting fancy expensive stuff like Heinz ketchup and Magnum ice cream, I’ll pluck up the courage to ask you out. If you’re getting a can of Red Bull and a chicken tikka pastie, I’ll reconsider.
I’m an undercover police officer
I’m hiding behind your car as part of a surveillance operation on Sandra on till 5, who’s fronting a meth lab and passing drugs to her contacts as she scans their shopping. She’s got a sideline cooking up Lurpak in a trailer because it’s worth 20 per cent more than meth these days.
I’m an Audi driver
Being considerate doesn’t apply to me because I drive an Audi. You’d think I’d feel guilty, but luckily I’m a sociopath. What’s that? I parked across the white line? It says in the Highway Code that Audi drivers can do whatever they want. At least in the copies Audi dealers give you.
Your car’s more expensive than mine
There’ are only five other cars in the car park, so the odds of mine being broken into is one in six, but if I park next to yours, the chances fall dramatically. Only an idiot would make off with my 15-year-old Vauxhall Vectra when your brand new £40,000 Tesla is sitting right next to it. Having said that, there’s a much lower chance of my Vectra randomly bursting into flames so maybe I should have parked next to that Ford Fiesta.
You look like a dogger
Only a dogger would wear pyjama bottoms and a hoodie to go to the shops at 9am on a weekday. Either that or your alarm didn’t go off and you were late dropping the kids off at school. I’ve got a 50-50 chance of being right, and that four-pack of Scotch eggs in your shopping screams ‘dogger’ to me. Meet me in the lay-by down the road in ten minutes.
I’m a moron
I’m a bona fide, weapons-grade moron who needs to have a shopping trolley full of pineapples inserted up my arse. Sideways. But that won’t teach me a lesson. Because I’m a moron, you see. You’re having difficulty navigating the three-inch gap between your driver’s door and my dangerously unroadworthy 1985 Skoda? What’s wrong with that?
