It’s a dark and stormy evening. I’ve borrowed a friend’s car to drive some other friends to the pub. Ironically he’s a pub landlord but we’re not planning to visit his pub. His car is a beautiful silvery Jaguar which has a touch of blue. One of my friends has asked me to pick him up from the supermarket. We’re in the queue to leave the car park when suddenly a trolley sails past and hits the car square on the bonnet. We get out but we can’t see where it came from. I quickly reverse the car into a vacant space and we use our phones to check the car but we can’t spot any scratches. Then just in front of us there’s a large bang. An old woman has driven right into the back of a red reliant robin which has caused it to rise up into the air and onto her bonnet. There’s a screech of tyres as the offending car, a light purple Volkswagen Beetle, roars away.
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