On the North Circular, approaching Hangar Lane the other day, as the traffic stopped two tarts leapt out with squeegees looking for windscreens to wet for cash.
One approaches the wife's limo (me driving) and I wave her away; she ignores this and as the squeegee reaches the windscreen (she's got f all chance of reaching the middle of the windscreen, let alone right across the bonnet) the Missus SCREAMS: "LEAVE MY CAR ALONE!"
So the tart does a soapy little heart on the windscreen while her mate sticks up her middle finger at us and shouts something that I didn't need translated.
A Sovereign (as far as the Missus is concerned, that counts as a limo) comes with headlamp jet washers. These things don't muck about; spray bounces back all over the place. They soaked the skirt of the tart that gave us the finger.
The windscreen wash/wipe caught the heart-tart on the back as the blade came back (it's a single blade for the entire windscreen). So she got splattered by all the bird tulip and dust the day in London had accumulated.
I was quite pleased with myself for achieving that. However, I witnessed the best bit as I turned to yell some abuse at her...
She stomped off to the next vehicle, a white Transit van.
The passenger called her over while the driver used the windscreen wash for a few seconds, then he wiped.
He absolutely soaked her. The blokes fall about laughing; and the traffic zooms off leaving them stood between the lanes with the heart-tart with bubbles dripping off her hair.
It was excellent teamwork by the boys in the building trade: one chats and one splats!
One approaches the wife's limo (me driving) and I wave her away; she ignores this and as the squeegee reaches the windscreen (she's got f all chance of reaching the middle of the windscreen, let alone right across the bonnet) the Missus SCREAMS: "LEAVE MY CAR ALONE!"
So the tart does a soapy little heart on the windscreen while her mate sticks up her middle finger at us and shouts something that I didn't need translated.
A Sovereign (as far as the Missus is concerned, that counts as a limo) comes with headlamp jet washers. These things don't muck about; spray bounces back all over the place. They soaked the skirt of the tart that gave us the finger.
The windscreen wash/wipe caught the heart-tart on the back as the blade came back (it's a single blade for the entire windscreen). So she got splattered by all the bird tulip and dust the day in London had accumulated.
I was quite pleased with myself for achieving that. However, I witnessed the best bit as I turned to yell some abuse at her...
She stomped off to the next vehicle, a white Transit van.
The passenger called her over while the driver used the windscreen wash for a few seconds, then he wiped.
SAPALASH!
He absolutely soaked her. The blokes fall about laughing; and the traffic zooms off leaving them stood between the lanes with the heart-tart with bubbles dripping off her hair.
It was excellent teamwork by the boys in the building trade: one chats and one splats!
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