A warning for all the dull Sébastien Loeb wannabees who drive the length and breadth of this fair isle with your fog lights on (whatever the meteorological conditions). I have been lucky enough to be given a horde of flying monkeys for Xmas which are presently searching the highways and byways for the brainless, Top Gear-watching, twats who partake of the aforementioned unnecessary illumination. Each primate has been issued with a large jar of pickled eggs and instruction to stuff 20 of them down the throats of anyone driving around pretending to look like a racing car driver. So, unless you like broken teeth and breath reminiscent of botty burps,... turn your f*cking fogs off you blind bastards.
Fly my pretties,... fly! (sic [apparently this line doesn't actually appear in 'The Wizard of Oz' but the more accurate "Fly, fly fly!" just doesn't measure up to the apocryphal hence its retention here,... I'm glad I've cleared that up]).
PS. Yes, I did drive from the highlands to South Wales today (including the entire length of the M6 which was full of bloody arseholes).