The drive of your life...
Exactly how much shite can one man buy on eBay? A newsletter to find out...
(Want to listen to this instead of read it with your eyes? Click above!)
Good morning from Starbucks, where I sit, nursing a coffee and wondering how long it will be before someone comes in to complain about the way I’ve parked my car outside. It doesn’t look like I’ve abandoned it diagonally across a parking space on purpose exactly, (although this is EXACTLY what it would look like to the casual observer), more like I’ve just abandoned it diagonally across a parking space because I must be a weapons grade bastard who cannot park my car for shit.
What would be great would be if one day, I could drive my car without being dangerously crippled by the consequences of my own ineptitude. Can I see out the back window to reverse? No! Why? It's filthy! Does the back wiper work? Also no! Has it been like this for oooh at least two years? Also yes. Reverse parking is tricky at the best of times, but in the lashing 8am rain on a Tuesday in Britain in November it would appear considerate parking is the first of my virtues to fail me.
This is one of many reasons why my husband Lee is itching, absolutely itching to sell this car on my behalf. The state of it causes him actual physical pain. As regular readers will know, he’s not shy of selling and buying any old shit on ebay, but even he is now doubting if we’ve passed the point of no return.
The catalogue of problems with my car extends beyond the faulty back wiper connection. Apparently, it's 'probably a busted electronic relay switch' somewhere within the bowels of the car but I'm fucked if I know what to do with this information, short of just live with an opaque back window until Lee sells the car from under me or I die. He’s been threatening me with this for years (sale of the car, not imminent death) but I’ve thus far resisted. I like the ways it drives. Just not the way it looks. Or sounds. Or smells.
The badge off the back fell off months ago. You can tell it’s a BMW because I gave up using my indicators the moment I got it, but sans-badge, it looks like one that’s recently been recovered by the police. No branding, just a dirty, battered, empty space – like the contents of Boris Johnson, but less evil. The front numberplate I think I've discussed elsewhere for spelling out a ludicrous and extremely tenuous approximation of my name. Never in my wildest dreams would I spank money away on a private plate, but it turns out Lee would. And did. And fitted it to my car WITHOUT MY EXPRESS CONSENT.
So anyway, as well as announcing my whereabouts to the world at all times, this idiotic front number plate is also as bent, rippled and wavy as the pacific, so you cannot even clearly guess at the name of the driver who has blocked you in outside Starbucks. This is because Lee “accidentally” reversed a tow bar into it while parking outside our house. In a giant empty space. Several times, by the looks of things. Good good. It’s possible he was following the principles of ‘if your wife wont sell it, break it’, representing a new low, even for him, but swears this wasn’t the case.
The front bumper of my car bears the scars from where a previous owner must have driven it, very slowly, across a wall of nails. This presents two main handicaps. One, mortal terror in all who behold it, suggesting me to fellow road users as a driver with literally no ability to actually drive without hitting you, and two, the parking sensors are shot to shit. All my manoeuvres are accompanied by an urgent and constant high-pitched electronic shriek, designed to induce instant panic and/or an emergency stop. It a bit like what happens in your brain the instant you turn on the news, except everyone in the car can hear it too, along with a loud string of shouted expletives. I don’t even know I’m doing it. In fact, I’m no longer sure I could complete a reverse park without yelling FUCKING CUNTING ARSEHOLE SENSOR at the top of my voice as I try to concentrate on the manoeuvre whilst guessing what might be behind the back windscreen. Unfortunate. Especially when the kids are in the car.
Which brings me on to the reason it smells so bad in my car. As any parent will know, children are taught at birth by evil pixies how to ask for a biscuit and then spend the duration of any car journey deliberately and methodically crumbling it into dust down the sides of their seat. And how to stuff any item of muddy clothing they are not currently wearing under the passenger seat to fester, unseen, for all eternity. Messy yes, but not the cause of the smell in my car.
We discovered a while back that my car had a mild damp problem. The smell, faint at first, was getting worse and worse, to a point it could no longer be ignored and Lee was called in to undertake emergency investigations. We noted that the drivers floor mats seemed a little...moist. Wet, even. Fast forward to when, after removing all mats, the carpet, the seats and most of the floor, Lee discovered approximately two inches of water sloshing around the undercarriage, which had been soaking up through the mats like a rancid sponge.
To this day, he believes this was caused by the amount of dirt accumulated on the car blocking the rainwater run-off ducts and funnelling water in, not away. Confession time – it’s actually because I drove the bastard thing through a fuckin massive flood by the bridge one day when I was running late, the kind of moment where your brain goes ‘NAH this will be totally fine, what’s two feet of standing water between friends, it’s fine (slosh), it’s...fine (gurgle) it’s not, it’s not fine, fuckity cock piss partridge this isn’t ok I’m going to be that dickhead on the news and everyone will know it’s me because of my PISSING numberplate oh god oh god oh...OH! I’m through.
Whereby I carried on driving and forgot all about it. Lucky Lee’s great at fixing shit eh? Now, can I interest you in a second hand BMW?...
What’s good lately…
For new subscribers who have read this far (and didn’t immediately unsubscribe at the word cunt, what are you going to do?), here is where I share some links of fun and uplifting stuff which I have enjoyed recently. Starting with…
This interviewee, summing up my feelings about rugby in general…Many thanks to my friend Lucas Calhoun, who sent it to me.
Lucas also knows I probably enjoy a calming meditation when things feel overwhelming. Like this one…
Not so much one for the lolz as simply a thing of pure marvel and beauty, I spotted this incredible performance from the paralympics courtesy of my dear friend Ginge.
Are you still on twitter? The Elon Musk shitshow has produced some amusing twitter content recently, but I refuse to leave a platform where people interact like the examples in this thread.
I’ve recently begun watching Avenue 5, which is actually hilarious. On the face of it, it’s not something I would be drawn to, being as it is set on a futuristic cruise ship in space, but it’s written by Armando Iannucci who is my hero, and is as acerbic, sweary and funny as you would expect. As is always the way, the trailer doesnt really do it justice, but check it out on HBO for more.
Going to channel this same energy into everything I do from this point onwards - sound on.
My sister is an incredible singer, and has long been involved with a Sheffield collective on eccentric live music projects, along with guests like TV’s Maxine Peake. She is touring next week with Acid Klaus, purveyors of bonkers electro/house/techno and I will be attending the album launch party in London on Monday 21st - tickets are still available for the full nationwide tour here if you fancy it. I’m going to get rowdy.
She will absolutely kill me for this, but here she is doing music about as opposite as it’s possible to get from her tour stuff - a stripped back, acoustic cover that will be balm for your soul. She tells me she was ‘ill as fuck’ when she recorded this too. Imagine. She’s so talented it makes me sick. She deserves all the success in the world, please share her far and wide!
That’s all for this week - cheers for reading, and don’t forget you can also now LISTEN to this with your EARS by clicking the link at the top. Go on, do it.
About me
I’m Lindsay Butcher and I write words down for a living. I’ll write for you too if you like? Commission me to be hilarious on your behalf…
Come follow me on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram.
Want to read more? Check out previous newsletter editions here, or feast your brain on my blog AndOtherIdiots.
I don’t get paid to write this, but you can show your appreciation and buy me a coffee and/or just invite me to a fuckin massive party on your superyacht in Cannes or whatever. Thanks.
I might have to unsubscribe after learning that you are one of those awful people who *knowingly* leaves their car parked poorly. And on a rainy day! It pissed me off just reading about it!