BAD DRIVERS
Here is a list of people who simply shouldn't be on the road.

1. Mad Hatters.
Why is it that people who don headgear make such bad drivers? Or is it that bad drivers feel the need to adorn their heads? Next time you're behind someone who chugs along at 20 miles an hour before mysteriously putting their foot down for no apparent reason double check to see there isn't some sort of paraphernalia planted on top of their scalp. There'll be the old boy in his Caterham 7 schmoozing along before slowing down to adjust his Panama. Or the veggie student with the raspberry beret in a clapped out Polo chatting to her mates and struggling to maintain a constant speed because her long floral skirt is floating under the accelerator pedal. Then there's the badly shaven asbo delinquent with the reverse baseball cap who thinks it's cool to try and take off fifty yards before the next set of traffic lights. Even though they're red.And you can forget about the sexagenarian Tory housewife with the Ascot plumage. She hasn't got a clue where she's going in the first place.

2. Toddler Modellers.
Baby on Board! Where exactly? Oh, that's right. The miniature urchin strait-jacketed to a pod on the back seat and staring blankly at the roof of the car whilst mummsie and pops bicker up front. Totally oblivious in fact to anything outside of the vehicle itself. So why do new parents feel obliged to enforce the safety of their child on others? Making sure the bod behind stays a safe breaking distance away to prevent little Susie getting mashed? I don't think so! More a case of Dad announcing "Hey everybody. Take note. I don't shoot blanks. In fact my scrote is bursting at the seams with more semen than a Polaris sub. And the wife is so fertile she could produce an entire orphanage just by winking at my tombstone. That's how fantastic and productive we are". Then there's the attempt by some to avoid being patronising by having the oh-so-hilarious "Naughty Person on Board" tag instead. How I chuckle like a pneumatic drill when I see that one. As for the "Tiny Person on Board " variation, this merely implies that one of the passengers is a dwarf. And the other day I saw one which read "Baby on Board. Be Patient". Patient? Why? Is the little fucker actually behind the wheel? But take solace all of you with a condescending yellow diamond on your rear window. It could be worse. You could be as deranged as one of those demented pageant-drunk pervs who exhibit a pink flower with the words "Princess on Board" at the back of their cars. These are the parents who should have been sterilised at birth.

3. Weekenders.
You're in the outside lane on the motorway behind a long queue of cars doing 50 mph and you're wondering why you're not travelling any faster than the middle lane. Guess is that someone (probably with a "Baby on Board" sticker) has decided to move into the outside lane and then maintain exactly the same speed as the car inside. Even more likely it's one of those dull-as-fuck nuclear families with 2.4 kids bouncing in the back of their MPV as they cruise along casually to the nearest B+Q. And all this just so that Dad can ignore his poor performance in the bedroom by purchasing a big fuck off Bosch hammerdrill to bore out a tiny hole in the downstairs toilet to hang a poncy frame containing some wankish prose by Rudyard Kipling.

4. Gravedodgers.
Most of us use the car as a means of getting from A to B. Senior citizens use it as a means to break up their day. You can spot them a mile off. Oldish car in mint condition. So clean you could eat your dinner off the bonnet. Trundling along country lanes with the handbrake on. And pausing every now and again to point at a particularly juicy rhododendron bush at the side of the road. Probably with the words "look at the flowers on that!" I remember once catching an episode of Trisha with the caption "Give Us More Respect" as teenagers and pensioners argued their differences, blissfully unaware that the one annoying trait they have in common is congregating in doorways. I mean, how difficult can it be not knowing where you want to go to next whilst preventing everyone else from doing so?

5. Numb and number.
Ever met a bird who expressed a desire for a personalised number plate? No, me neither. That's because they're nowhere near as sad and infantile as blokes. When I was working in Croydon there was this slate and tile company (imaginatively called S+T Slates and Tiles) which was run by this geezer who looked like George Michael on steroids and owned a red Mercedes cabriolet with the number plate "BAD BOY". I mean, who breeds these people? Also, what compels someone to get their initials stamped at the front and back of their car? Do they think their vehicle will get lost and somebody will return it to them saying "I knew this was yours cos it had your name on it"? When I spotted a Porsche Carrera in downtown Sydney with "4PLAY" on its plates did I think "Dude! You must be laden with chicks!". No. I didn't. Was Jimmy Tarbuck not aware that he was enticing the wrath of the Trades Description Act when he decided to stick "COMIC" on his car? Surely "TRAGIC" would have been more apt. And the problem with these immature fuckwits is that for the rest of us to read their oh-so-unique plates they have to drive at the speed of a milk float, thereby creating congestion, road rage, and a serious debate as to the merits of cross-breeding a human with a mantis so that any bloke who has just fathered a child has his head bitten off.

Hoss.