Ok, Michael "Golt" Winner. Sorry I spoke, which I din't- I typed. Oh, dear how pedantic. And there I was watching some old biddy drive very slowly into my car, smug in the knowledge that I was well insured. Then out popped the twat Winner and told me I'd have to pretend the low speed collision was my fault, otherwise this octogenarean would cry rape. Unbeleivable. Her fucking Reliant Robin had barely a scratch, whereas my new Aston had a huge dent in the gleaming, hand built body panels. No, I said- that just isn't right. Just because you are old doesn't give you the right to blackmail me. She was doubly incontinent and made a right mess of my shoes. The case goes to court next week.
So, no- I won't calm fuckin down dear.
