I saw a guy at the gym the other night with the baggiest pair of boxers you've seen in your life. I thought he was wearing a second pair of pants underneath his pants. Bring back thongs that's what i say.
Driving home afterwards with Daniel we got stopped by the cops. I was shitting myself. What have i done ?. Speeding?, Did i run someone over without noticing?. Neither actually, according to this stroppy policewoman my numberplate was unreadable. Although once she stopped me and got closer she agreed it looked ok.
This woman was only about 5ft 3 and looked like a little rat. The driver of the cop car was a fat bloke who stayed where he was on his arse in a nice warm vehicle checking on a radio that i had insurance and we weren't nicking it.
If i was gonna nick a car it wouldn't have been this old rust bucket for starters. Then the cheeky cow suggested that i might like to look into getting a new numberplate. Even though there was nothing wrong with it and it had been fine for the past 11 years (that's how old the car is). I told her a new numberplate would probably cost more than the car is worth.
Thank god she didn't ask to have a look around the thing, she might have found the body in the boot.