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Friday 17th February 2012
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Friday 17th February 2012

Life on the road continues, but so far I am mainly enjoying the daytime driving and haven't got fed up of eating M&S salads from service stations. I have had a couple of run ins with impatient and rude drivers and getting uncharacteristically angry at their rudeness.
When a bit lost in Wolverhampton yesterday I was driving a little slowly to get my bearings and was immediately beeped by the driver behind. Then two minutes later I realised I was about to miss my turning off point, indicated left and waited for a car that was in the next lane to overtake me (only slowing down a touch). It was pretty clear what I was doing and that there was no way for me to move yet, but the opportunity would open up in maybe 3 seconds. But again I was beeped by the twat behind me. I shouted it at him as I moved out of the way, not that he'll have heard me, but I think he got my point.
Today coming off the motorway on the way to Didcot I was in the left hand lane, but realised I was turning right at the roundabout so indicated right. One of those big lorries which is used to transport cars around on (can't think what they're called - car transporters?), though he had no cars on his, was in the right hand lane. He wasn't even behind me and all I had done was indicate, making no move to cut across in front of him. He immediately beeped his horn at me, not in a friendly warning way, but in a "who the fuck do you think you are wanting to come into my lane?" kind of a way. As we were approaching a roundabout we were all going to have to stop in the next 15 seconds anyway. It might have been a pleasant thing for him to slow down very slightly early and let me in, but he barged on through, still blaring his horn. I hung back, a bit annoyed by his pointless rudeness, but was even more astonished that when he got in front of me and I finally got into his lane, he cut across in to mine. He hadn't been indicating that that was his intention. And all the time he'd rushed to get ahead of me, he needed to be in my lane anyway. If he'd hung back he would not only have looked polite he would have got where he wanted to go. What a fucker. I pulled up alongside him and indicated to him that I was bamboozled by his behaviour. He shouted at me. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I had a good idea.
I think he himself had got into the wrong lane, because I am pretty certain that he actually ended up coming off at the same exit as me, as about five minutes later another very similar looking empty car transporter overtook me and then cut in front of me in a slightly threatening and dangerous way. He wasn't really trying to hit me, but just to make it look like he was trying to hit me. Had I really deserved to be killed for my minor error of being in the wrong lane, even though I didn't do anything remotely wrong as I attempted to get into the right one?
I overtook him a bit later, but decided not to cut him up, as if this turned into Duel then I was likely to come off worse. I was surprised at my bravado though. I was prepared to give him what for when I pulled up next to him and just like the man in the Wolverhampton audience last night, ready to punch him if necessary. By the way, that man got in touch today to say that he was talking because he'd just swallowed a sweet wrapper. At least he apologised. But if I'd been dumb enough to eat a sweet still in its wrapper I'd probably have kept quiet.
I stopped at a service station in order to micturate. In gents toilets these days they've increasingly started putting advertisements for things like speed camera detectors and extra bright headlights and medicines for people with malfunctioning penises, which are either too soft when they want them to be hard, or having troubles when it comes to weeing. There's one I have seen several times which depicts three naked men standing in a row with hats over their genitals. Two of the men are holding their hats with their hands, but the middle one, with a slight smile on his face, has his hands behind his back and yet something is holding the hat in place.... The advert asks us to guess which man had taken some cure for impotence or whatever. Though if I was one of the other two men I'd be worried about what the Priapic man in the middle is so excited about. No wonder they have to hold their hats with their hands - they must be terrified.
But the advert interests me, because the man they have chosen as the "hero" is an unlikely candidate. Whilst the non erect men are youngish and quite trim and good looking, the man with the hat peg for a cock is chunky, bald on his head and hairy on his body in a not massively attractive way. Perhaps the advertisers are trying to make the consumers who resemble the more middle-aged man identify with the protagonist, assuming that they will look the same and like the idea of getting one over on their younger and more attractive rivals. But his body hair is a bit weird and he's pasty and (sorry if you're reading this mate) quite unappealing. And even as a middle aged man with body hair and a penis that needs increasing amounts of winding up to work at full capacity, I don't want to identify with this guy. I'd like to think I am not that fat or hairy or unappealing. Surely they could have found a slightly nicer looking model to be the middle guy - the joke wouldn't fail. The other two look more like they might work in modelling or acting, whilst the middle guy looks like some bloke they found on the street and I wondered, as I weed and looked up at him, if the middle guy is actually the boss of the company that makes the impotence medicine or cream or device. Did he insist that he would have to be the one in the poster? Does that explain this odd choice? Or was it genuinely a conscious decision?
The other thing that is weird about the picture is that the middle guy with the working knob's hat has an odd dark stain on the brim. Your eye is drawn to it, making you wonder what has just happened to create that stain or at least making you think that this fat, bald, but hairy man is the kind of guy who would go around with a scuzzy dirty hat with a dubious stain on it. Why didn't they give him the clean hat? Or did he have a clean hat but became so excited about his virility being displayed in public toilets that he had an accident.
All I know is that if I had a problem keeping hats on my cock - which I don't, I wouldn't go to the company with the weird man with the dirty brim. I wonder what the real story is there.

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