Backside drivers.

I drive to and from work every day. Maybe you do too. Don’t assume I care. Either way in doing so I can safely say that one of the more pointless groups of people on the planet are those who choose to put stickers on the back of their cars. In the way that some wear novelty ties or socks without irony so others actively decide to splat moronic rubbish across their boot. Why? Is it an effort to cheer up the person directly behind them? Is it some kind of cry for help; an flaccid effort to paper over a crippling lack of self-asteem or an underlying seam of paedophilic thoughts? Or is it an attempt to say “you don’t know me from Adam but at least you get the impression I’m kind of a bit wacky and have a great sense of humour”.
I’m afraid not, sir or madam. I don’t think you’re wacky. Momentarily strangled by your own umbilical cord at birth perhaps. Rather I think you’re a galactic prick for whom a sense of humour is just a thing that happens to other people. I already have some quite strong views on personalised number plates but when it comes to voluntary stickers then I fear that there simply isn’t a single one that justifies it being there. I also assume that anyone who feels it is a good idea must lead an extraordinarily sad existence and spend most evenings standing on a stool in the garage with a belt wrapped round their neck, seriously contemplating suicide. Perhaps it might be more fitting to gas oneself in the car. I don’t know, the jury could well be out.
Have you ever laughed at a car sticker? I doubt it. Stickers that say ‘this car runs on fairy dust’ or ‘my other car is a Porsche’ or ‘my driving scares me too’ or ‘watch out for the idiot behind me’ or ‘it’s not leaking fuel, it’s sweating power’ or ‘I’m only speeding because I need a poo’ or ‘Caution! Ex-wife in boot’ (how bitter and unfunny do you have to be to think that last one is a good thing?) are all thoroughly submerged beneath the lowest form of wit. In my dream world drones would hover in the skies and drop nerve gas on any car they see with a sticker like these on. Even better anyone caught buying such a stain could be automatically banned from accessing the NHS. And then nerve gased.
There are, sadly, other options for those who feel their car is simply not interesting enough. You can have the stickers that lend the illusion someone has their fingers trapped in your boot or a strange creature is lifting up the paintwork to lurk at you. Fucking why on earth? And if stickers aren’t your kind of thing you can branch out into a world of car accessories that boggle the mind on every level. I hope you’ll all agree that anyone with a ‘children on board’ or ‘little princess on board’ or ‘star footballer on board’ sign hanging from the back of the window should be dragged out and shot in front of the very tots they are trying to protect.
Any car with a Churchill nodding dog on the back shelf should be petrol bombed and that goes for a car with a tissue box in an ornate holder. But star prize for me goes to the bloody fish symbol. The fish symbol is an easy way of telling everyone behind you in traffic, or in a car park, that you are lit with the light of Christ and blessed with the love of God. And that is wrong. No other religion feels it necessary to adorn their automobile with a sign of their religious preference. Fundamentalist Muslims don’t splash the star and crescent across their rear bumper (though that might be helpful if they’re driving a van with the intent to cause a terrorist act; even better put it on the bonnet). Jewish cars (not that a car can be Jewish) don’t sport the Star of David and so on. And what if you’re atheist? Nothing, as usual.
There, some no doubt very welcome thoughts on car decorations. And to think I was about to write about the World Cup. Next time.

G B Hewitt. 09.06.2018

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