OK, so those of you who have been around for a while may be aware that I do a fair bit of driving, and I'm probably not the most patient person in the world. I have been known to indulge in a fair bit of verbal abuse of drivers of most brands and models.
Lately, however, I've repeatedly noticed an interesting phenomenon: it seems that one of the pre-requisites for the purchase of a Renault Megane Scenic is a severely diminished IQ and a complete inability to be decisive about anything once you've bought the cunting car. I've been amazed, it doesn't matter if it's a rusty old tip or a brand spanking new top of the line model, they all fucking dither worse than Arsey [long may his miserable soul rest in peace!] trying to choose a new zimmer frame. And then of course, when it comes to turning into a side road across oncoming traffic, the size of the gap required by these retarded cuntfucks is unbelievable. Even the bus driver this morning hooted at the stupid bitch to get a fucking move on.
This afternoon, my journey out of town to the old park and ride was twice fucked for a ridiculous length of time (15 minute journey took 20 -- a 33% fucking increase!) by two cunting Megane Scenics. But the thought of being able to drop the roof of my car and blast home calmed me down by the time I got off the bus. Only to find that some dumb ass-felching fucktard had parked so close to my car that I could not get in. I had to remove the roof entirely (an aggravating task in an old car) so that I could clamber in from the other side. And the car that parked me in was?
A CUNTING FUCK OF A SHIT PILE FUCKING RENAULT WHOREMOBILE MEGANE SHITBAG FUCKING SCENIC!!!
I think I'm going to start setting fire to the cunting things on principle.
Cunting FUCKS! CUNTING, CUNTING, CUNTING FUCKED FUCKING SHIT-BRAINED FUCKWITTED PISSFLAP SHITMOBILES!!!
Originally posted here.
Update: So I'm out in the penis extension today, enjoying some country lanes and balmy weather and at the far end of a mile-long straight, what do I see coming towards me, desperately trying to overtake a white van? Trying, and failing.
I took my foot off the accelerator. Then I braked gently. Then I braked a little more. Then I moved half onto the hard shoulder. Then I pulled completely off the road and stopped (not as easy as it sounds, the hard shoulder wasn't even as wide as my car!)
The bovine expression on the driver of the said car as he drove by, engine straining mightily, ignoring me completely, seemed to imply that it was only right and just that everyone else should get out of his way as he performed his annual overtake.
(Oh, and the white van driver who wouldn't let him overtake - you are a weapons-grade cunt as well.)