Heat wave road chaosHeat wave road chaos

By our woman in front in the 4x4,
Miranda S Givings
LONDON — now that summer has finally arrived in Britain — officially categorized as one fine day followed by a thunderstorm — police report car accidents have trebled as motorists struggle to cope with soaring temperatures, melting ice-lollies, and teenage girls wearing frayed shorts

Already distracted by over 52 million speed cameras — roughly one for every man, woman and illegal immigrant — sleeping policemen and straying sheep, middle-aged British drivers are skidding into ditches and crashing into lampposts in alarming numbers. The cause? Scantily clad teenage girls wearing frayed shorts and belly-baring crop-tops. Once confined to the Shopping Malls of Middle America, the belly-baring teenager is now the biggest single cause of car accidents on Britain's roads according to motoring magazine, Hot Rod Monthly.

"Phew, what a scorcher!" shouted one fifty-two-year-old stockbroker as he swerved to avoid a teenage girl who had bent down to retrieve her iPod directly in front of his Jaguar. Pausing only to ask the young woman if she wanted to lie down on the back seat of his air-conditioned limo, the good samaritan went on to tell Utterpants that his daily journey to work had turned into a nightmare since the heat wave struck. "It's simply not cricket," he explained, as he reached for a kleenex to wipe the perspiration from his brow—or possibly his trousers, "only yesterday two schoolgirls dressed in scraps of cloth no larger than a bus ticket blew me a kiss as they cycled past in a traffic jam. Had I not had the presence of mind to mount the kerb and crash into a newsagents a serious sexual offence might have been committed by those shameless sluts!"

"It was bad enough last month," commented a distraught man in a crumpled crimpeline suit from the British Ministry of Transport, "but as soon as the sun comes out temperatures just go through the roof."
"But, surely," we asked, "it doesn't get that hot in Britain?"
"I'm not talking about the bloody thermometer," complained the forty-two-year-old father of three, mopping his brow, "it's the drivers who are overheating. They're so busy rubbernecking anything in frayed shorts, they're crashing into each other like lemmings at a banger race. Some parts of Chelsea are so bad we've had to erect barriers to prevent drivers physically assaulting the local tottie."

"You can't blame a young girl for trying to keep cool," we objected.
"We don't, but these reckless women are blinding innocent motorists with their diamond belly rings and gold earrings. You can't expect the British motorist to keep a firm grip on the wheel of his Bentley when some irresponsible sixteen-year-old is wriggling her naked hips inches away from his front bumper, can you? That sort of behaviour is hardly likely to lower the temperature, is it?
One poor sod was so mad at crashing his BMW he dumped a whole carton of ice cream all over the female police officer who pulled him over. At least we think it was ice cream.."

"Can nothing be done?" we asked him.
"About the stains on her uniform, do you mean?"
"No, about the car accidents."
"Well — we did think about banning low-slung pants and crop-tops like the Yanks have in Louisiana, but we don't think that would work here."
"Why's that?"
"Builders and plumbers' mates wouldn't stand for it."

"If we banned women from wearing them we'd have to ban builders and plumbers' mates hanging their fat arses out of their ripped jeans. The construction and plumbing industries would grind to a halt."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Wait for it to start pissing with rain."
"And when will that happen?"
"In about five minutes by the look of that enormous fucking black cloud over there."

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© 2004 utterpants.co.uk /A140705

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