Back the fuck off!

So, I’m driving home from preschool. In the car I have:

1 toddler repeating any swearwords I mutter under my breath

1 screaming 4 month old baby who wants to be cuddled.

1 stinky shitty nappy that can be smelt at least two lanes away.

1 drum n bass cd on repeat

And me, the nervous breakdown waiting to happen.

Almost in the boot of my car I have a smarmy fucker wearing a hi-vis jacket.  He’s so close I can hear him thinking “stupid women drivers!” 

I’m a shit driver at the best of times, and I can feel my concentration lapsing as O raises his cries a few decibels.  I’ve got white knuckles from gripping the steering wheel and I’m willing arseface mcwankerson to opt for an alternate route. 

He doesn’t.  I mean this guy is just asking for a faceful of the heaby duty pram I have in my boot.  And if I didn’t have the kids in the car he would have been offered it.

I refuse to speed, so I keep to 29 miles an hour.  He almost causes an accident as he goes to overtake me into on coming traffic.  The road is clear, I pull out.  He’s smirking, smug shithead.  I get to 30…31…brake back down to 25.  The fucker will pay.

Finally I turn off. He stops being glued to my ringer and goes straight on.

This kind of driving is unnecessary. Really. Just back the fuck off.

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