Did they forget who I am ?

I was down, but never out. Not me, not I.
Curing the blues was a hard task, but after tail-gating a couple of www.iamspasticjumeirahjane.coms in their www.lookatmefuckerpajero.coms I feel pleasantly refreshed. Leaving their fuchicles spinning off Al Manara Road I continued on to Park n Vomit to torment mrs.icantdrivemylandcruisers. It is great to park behind them and leave a couple of inches maneuvering room, and then sit there shielded by the mukhfi (tinted windows you dickhead) and watch them strain and swear.....jeeeeez, why do these guys buy their wives such monstrocities? Have you ever watched them try to reverse? They have their hands flat out on the wheel with fingers straight. If they tried to bend them to hold onto the wheel (and actually steer the darned thing) they may damage their french manicures. Oh flip. I wanna see them once they are back home in their Ford Fiestas, winding through the streets of Tonbridge.....hair clipped up, nails chipped, stacks of ironing awaiting them. I bet they won't miss me though.

Besides harassing poor housewives I have been following other drivers. Yes, c'est moi. MOI. YES MEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. If they pissed me off then I was behind them. I dedicated entire days to scare the effing shite out of them. Photographing them, cutting them up, boxing them in and generally making their lives a worse hell than they could have imagined.

Phew, anyway, I am back to normal and on the mend. Not much can stop me.