I just stopped raised my hands in a "what the heck just happened?" kind of way and peered into the car. It was empty. No driver. No passenger. No robber. No nothing! The car was a tip I might add. I did think that needs a bloody darn good clean out by anyone's standard. There was a pink car seat in the front and baby doll in the foot well. I peered into the back seat just to check a child wasn't hiding after realising the error of its way playing with a handbrake.
|Me aka Columbo in Kamikaze Car Gate - pic ebay|
I took a picture with my phone - a banged to rights picture - which had the number plate and the point of impact. This was just to prove what I had just witnessed and not a figment of my imagination. I then proceeded to collect my son. Naturally I relayed the story to the mum's waiting in line. Next thing the crash car arrives at the pre-school. A rather burly tattooed mum arrived saying "oh my god, my car has just crashed into the pub wall" I said "yeah I know I saw it" She then surveyed the damage of her car and remarked that her car wasn't too bad but "you should see the pub wall" followed by "I suppose I better tell them" Erm you don't say. Then she started to come up with some cock and bull story of how the handbrake can't be working as "I put the handbrake on" I suspect not you dick.
I glanced all Columbo like at her car and thought mmmm clearly the handbrake does work as you've just parked your shit heap and its not rolling back now is it? Plus, I had quickly pieced the offending evidence and came to the conclusion that she was running late to pick her child up from pre-school, kamikazed into the garage for some petrol and omitted to put the handbrake on. She could have killed someone (the wall is enclosing a children's play area) and it was a good job that was the only thing hit by her piss poor driving ability. My ex used to shout out "where did you get your licence from? A Christmas cracker?" I digress.
Anyhow, when I got home and seeing as I don't get out much and this is probably an 8 out of 10 on exciting incidents in my day range, I told the hubster and the guy (T) that works for him. After their eyes had stopped glazing over T says "oh I know the owner of that pub."
To cut a long story short 3 weeks pass and the kamikaze mum had, unsurprisingly, failed to go into the pub and say "you know that wall that used to be upright, yeah well I flattened it" Naturally the owners were quite pissed off about said wall and T said they were scrawling through the cctv footage from the garage.
At that point, I though sod it, she's done wrong and people like that probably moan about immigrants and the like when in real terms they're what's wrong with this country. Selfish fuckers! I printed out the banged to rights photo from my phone and handed it over. They now have the date of the accident and will have a lot less scrawling to do.
So am I a grass? Who am I to grass the mum from pre-school? Is it any of my business? Should I have handed over the photo? Why did I feel a bit guilty about doing it?
Why should I even be asking myself these questions!? There is a right way and a wrong way is there not? Ultimately she walked away from the scene of an accident, was quite chuffed her car was fairly okay and just merrily drove home and forgot all about it. She didn't exactly hide the fact that she had taken out the pub wall when she announced it to all the mums. So I grassed her up. She had 3 weeks to come clean and perhaps if T didn't know the owner I may never have gone into the pub.
Naturally the pub owner was very pleased with the photo and made his job much easier to sort out the insurance etc. I doubt very much anything more than a ticking off and a claim on the insurance for pre-school mum - that's if she had insurance. I have yet to be accosted at pre-school although I'd be quite happy to tell her the tale - you know me not one to shy away from confrontation!
So are you a grass like me?!
Until next time....which will be in the next 24 hours as I have been lacking in the update front what with the sunny weather and ridiculous busy week leading up to the summer hols.