I was sat waiting to pull away at the roundabout at the centre of town where I live and work when it started. Bang! The car lurched and I was thrown forward in my seat, the cause of which being the impact of the car behind running into me.
Shit, I thought to myself, just what I needed, more aggro. I was already running late after the school run and I had to get a report off to the boss by lunchtime and so needed to get back to my home office.
The impact wasn't too bad, I felt OK, the airbags hadn't gone off and the car hadn't been thrown all that far forward. I got out of the car to inspect the damage, the noise of the traffic ringing in my ears and the cold, crisp morning November air rasping in my lungs.
A baby BMW impaled itself on the tow bar but there seemed only to be a slight scratch on my back bumper. The BMW seemed to have more damage than mine as it reversed off, a few wisps of steam were drifting out from under the shiny black bonnet and the front bumper was cracked, the paint splitting off. There was a crunching noise as the car disengaged from mine, the front number plate dropping noisily to the tarmac.
I had been in this position before and decided to take the driver's details just in case there was underlying damage. I moved to the driver's door and tapped on the glass. A young woman, in her late teens or early twenties wound the window down. An acrid mixture of tobacco smoke and hot air bellowed out of the opening as the window was lowered. Then she opened up, with both barrels!
"Why didn't you fucking pull away?" Her voice was rough, her tone aggressive and insulting.
Oh my God, I thought, what do we have here? She looked like the archetypal chava, Collar length, straight bleached blonde hair with jet black roots and non-matching dark eyebrows. She had large round wiry loops as ear rings, nose and lip piercings and she was wearing a low cut white cotton vest, exposing more than an ample amount of cleavage. The only things missing were the hat and chunky gold chains. She was chewing noisily, open mouthed, on a huge boulder of pale grey gum. She turned the blaring radio down as she spoke again.
"What the fuck were you doing you stupid bastard."
"Well my dear, I think that you may like to moderate your language a little before we continue this conversation." I said, trying to calm her down a little and not to be drawn down to her level.
At least the baby seat in the rear of was empty, as was the passenger seat but the ladette behind the wheel continued her abusive diatribe.
"Don't you fucking talk to me like that, you fucking patronising twat, you drive like a fucking old man, what the fuck..."
I tried not to reel at the insults or react in any way, in fact I was not all that old, perhaps ten years her senior, but some distance ahead in outlook. Under normal circumstances I would be asking if she were OK, but she was far from a normal woman. I stood back.
"Just let me have your name, address and insurance details and I'll be on my way." I said staying as calm as I could. By now the other drivers in the queue behind us were getting impatient, edging past, staring at us and beeping their horns.
"You can fucking swing for that, you fucking twat." She sat back in her chair and folded her arms in defiance.
I had been here before too, "OK," I said, "I'll just take your registration and I'll let the police will catch up with you." With that I went to the rear of her car and made a note of the registration plate on my mobile.
As I walked passed the open window she remained facing forwards but spat out, "You fucking twat."
I got back in my car and pulled away. I caught the sight of her in my mirror, driving her car right up my backside, flashing her lights, gesturing and mouthing further obscenities. I decided to ignore her and I carried on until I reached the entrance to my housing estate. I turned in and she followed, again tailgating me. I continued steadily, left then right until I reached my street. I glanced in my mirror to see that she had gone before turning on to my small and narrow driveway.
I paused for a moment to gain composure before opening the car door, locking it and walking the two or three paces to the front door step. I heard the swoosh of a car pulling up sharply and a door slamming shut, I turned around to see the BMW at the end of the drive, parked untidily and with wisps of steam still coming from under the bonnet.
The young woman was walking stridently up the short length of the driveway towards me, almost bouncing, gesturing and continuing with an acidic torrent of foul mouthed abuse.
By now I could sense the curtains twitching in the street. I was in shock, her words were failing to register but her posture and demeanour we clear, she was almost shaking with rage.
She was a slight and slender figure, rather boyish in shape, slender arms and legs with narrow hips, rather straight up and down. I looked at her up and down. She was dressed in fluffy black sheepskin boots, thick woolly tights, a faded denim mini skirt and a white cotton vest. Her small boobs thrust forward and up by a platform bra. She wore a deep frown, below which was a pair of bright blue eyes, burning with rage, they were highlighted by luminescent pink eye shadow and heavily applied mascara.
Her cheeks were flushed red, disguising the orange hue of the obviously fake tan applied to her face and the remainder of her visible skin. She sported a couple of tattoos, one black Celtic band around her upper arm and another smaller figure, in colour, on her left shoulder. I regained my focus by noticing her nipples were stiffening through the thin material of her top in the cool morning air.
"I want a fucking word with you, you wanker." She was in my face, pointing her fingers, gesturing, invading my personal space.
"If you don't get off of my driveway right away I'll call the police." I retorted.
She stood, crossing her arms in defiance. "What you gonna fucking do about it, you posh twat?" She threatened.
I wasn't all that posh, but perhaps better mannered than her. I fumbled in my pocket for the door keys. OK perhaps my car was bigger and newer than hers, but the company paid for that.
"Go on then big man, do your fucking worst." She goaded, twisting her face.
By I was by now fumbling at the door, trying to shy away from her verbal barrage and trying to look in command of the situation for the sake of my neighbours. She was following me, close up, right in my face, I could feel her hot breath and spit on my skin as I inserted the door key.
I pushed at the door and went inside, before it fell shut she flung it wide open and stood, as bold as brass, in the hallway behind me.
"Get out of my house you foul mouthed little girl." I was stunned, and that was the best insult and threat I could come up with.
"Make me, you fucking arsehole." She said moving further in and slamming the door shut.
The house was quiet and warm, her presence was not welcome. I stuttered out, "My God, you do have a foul mouth, does your mother know you talk like that?"
I pulled my mobile phone from my pocket and stared to dial. She batted it out of my hand, sending it scuttling noisily across the laminate floor and bouncing off the skirting. Her blow stung my fingers and I had the urge to strike back. Instead I looked up at her, glowering, but she still refused to move.
"Make me leave you rich fucking twat." She continued to goad. Boy was she pushing her luck! Again I wasn't all that rich and it is only a small three bedroomed house, detached granted, but mortgaged up to the hilt. I ply my trade as a freelance programmer and work from the small spare room that doubles as an office, upstairs.
She moved towards me again raising an arm, instinctively I grabbed her wrist spun her round and dumped her against the wall. I held her in an arm lock against the cool plaster wall at the foot of the stairs. She struggled and was quite strong for such a slightly built woman but was no real match for me.
