And obviously a little bit drunk. I am also hugely annoyed about Southern Trains entirely false claim about having Wi-Fi on their trains. The important thing though is that I am here posting rather then in some police station somewhere.
This evening I have been off visiting a friend in Brighton. You may remember this friend as the guy who had that car accident on the day of the England V Algeria World Cup match. Having heard his side of the story it would appear that he was approaching a Zebra Crossing outside a school and therefore sticking strictly to the 30mph speed limit. Then a white, middle aged construction worker who couldn't keep up with the Polish immigrants decided to make an illegal and quite frankly inexplicable U-turn. This left my friend with the choice between smashing into the side of his van or smashing into the side of the school. He decided to smash into the side of the van. Obviously the police, being friends with the construction worker, couldn't compliment my friend on his very good driving. They did though caution the construction worker for dangerous driving. By accepting the caution and admitting the criminal offence the construction worker also admitted to the courts and all insurance companies that he was totally at fault for the accident. Despite this the insurance companies are refusing to pay for the damage caused by the accident on the grounds that my friend was not the registered keeper of the vehicle, a fact that he declared when he signed the contract with the insurance company. The insurers are also insisting that my friends girlfriend/wife undergoes 5+ counselling session with a psychiatrist to deal with the trauma of the accident.
Tonight I also got to meet Patch, the same friends new, tiny, Jack Russell puppy. Here I feel lied to because while a puppy Patch neither tiny nor, strictly speaking a Jack Russell. On the plus side though I think that with the proper training we may well have a championship ratter on our hands.
So basically the summary version is that I smell of dog.
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