Friday 11 June 2010

Yootility vehicle

questing forth

Every other time I go to see Prof Levy, my favourite endocrinologist, I have an adventure. Two years ago, it was the Drongo Bike Thieves. Before that, it was the Cat Litter Chavs. This year, it was the Yoots In Dad's Car.

Down in Broadmead, having a quick look round before my appointment, I was about to cross Horsefair, a road through central Broadmead that has for some time been closed to general traffic. A prohibition which has revealed a startling epidemic of disabilities among the owners of Range Rovers and similar prestige vehicles, which can often be spotted carrying their evidently infirm owners along this thoroughfare.

A little red car was coming as I prepared to cross the road; I think the throttle linkage must have been sticky, because it was going VROOOM BRRRUUUMMM in a quite snarly way. Perhaps it was intended to impress the shoppers at Primark.

I carried on anyway. One mustn't be deterred by these things.

The car slows. There are three Yoots in it. The driver calls out "Did you see a zebra-crossing there?" He waves a finger at the zebra-crossing free place where I had crossed.

I point back the way he came. "Did you see the No Entry sign back there?"

He mutters some vaguely obscene things and drives off...

It was nice seeing Prof Levy again. And good to see that my blood is doing what well-regulated blood should be doing.


  1. Was the blood not boiling? :)


  2. Ah, chavs, how lovely! Did the car have one of those little tin can things screwed to the end of its exhaust pipe to make it sound more flatulent?

  3. You've changed your look. Very smart.

    Don't you know, they're the mentally handicapped ones*? The bigger and flashier the car the more likely they are to take up the handicap spaces in our village.

    *Excuses to the people who really have problems.

    It's nice when you find out your blood is behaving itself, isn't it?

  4. You have to lurve da yoots in their noisy wheels. Or not.
    And we have quite a few with severe disabilities around here who badly need those large prestige vehicles to get around in. I like to think it's because they need the extra stretching exercises for the legs, clambering in and out before they sprint to the post office.

  5. It did simmer for a little while, Stace, but nil carborundum, eh?

    Funny you should say that, Jenny; it did sound a bit blarty, but I think they got the extra fart sound by putting a hole in the silencer rather than investing in a bean can.

    Thank you, Anji. Blogger flashed up some new layout options, so I had a quick tinker around. ..yes, I was quite relieved, especially given that my diet sometimes seems a bit light on the rabbit food. Hrumph.

    I think the logical next stage, Graham, would be for the seats to detach from the main car and roam off like little mobility scooters. Like those flying jet ski thingies they had on Fireball XL5. That would really solve the problem of actually having to walk at all, which a big car alone does not entirely address.

  6. Just bigger aisles in shops and supermarkets to drive down would do the trick. It would save them the trouble of leaving the car at all.

  7. You remember Fireball XL5 too! I thought I'd imagined the whole thing. Gawd bless Gerry and Sylvia Anderson.