No Parking

My brain has a strange way of embellishing things to make me feel better.

Up until recently I’ve been spending most of my weekends on the road. After a week of doing Breakfast Shows on BOBfm in Hertfordshire, I’ve been getting up at 3am on Sundays, driving up the M1, M6 and M62 to present Sunday mornings at BBC Radio Merseyside in Liverpool, then at noon I’d drive south again and get home at about 6pm. It’s a round trip of almost 400 miles.

A couple of Sundays ago, I made it home after my epic journey but couldn’t park because someone was in my allocated parking space outside our block of flats.

Just as I was about to start pushing the intercom of every flat, a bloke came out of the front door. I said to him, “You wouldn’t happen to know whose car that is, would you?” He said, “Yes, it belongs to my mother, I’ll call her”. Then he left in his car.

About ten minutes later, nothing had happened and another bloke come out of the front door. I asked him if he knew anything about the car in my space and it turned out he was the brother of the first fella and said his mother would be down in half an hour. I said, “Half an hour? Tell her to move it right now, she’s in my space, which according to the deeds to the flat, I own!”

He went back inside, another ten minutes went by, so I parked my car right in front of the car that was in my space, so she wouldn’t be able to get out. I left a note under the windscreen wiper with my mobile number on it.

I went upstairs to our flat and started work on a shelf Julie and I were putting up. About twenty minutes later, my phone went. It was the bloke from downstairs asking me to move my car. I said, “I’ll be down in half an hour” and hung up.

He rang straight back. He said, “If you don’t move your car right now, I’m going to call the police”. I carried on fitting the shelf but Julie had had enough, grabbed her keys and went down to move the car.

When she got down there, the bloke WAS on the phone to the police. Julie moved the car and he ranted about me being passive aggressive (trust me, I may have been calm but there was nothing passive about my aggression).

Last night, I had a really weird dream about the whole thing. In the dream, a policeman actually showed up and made me move my car.

I was really annoyed that the cop was having a go at me and didn’t have the guts to arrest the lady for trespassing on my property. So I made him say out loud, what I wanted to say to him. I said, “Excuse me officer, how do I get a ticket to the next Policeman’s Ball?” and he said, “I’m sorry, the police don’t have any balls”.

Craic on!

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