Trailer Trash / June 7 2008
Some detestable moron-cum-idiot was driving away with a large open-backed trailer attached to his flashy Land Rover earlier today from the entrance to the lane that Audrey and I like to wander along towards the babbling brook in the bottom of the Amber Valley. He had just finished dumping on to the wooded path several large bags of building rubble, old furniture and a refrigerator. ‘Well I say! I’m rather disgusted,’ I informed my little dog.
‘So am I, father,’ she barked in reply.
I loathe people who do this kind of thing – they should be gassed at birth. What makes the crime even more despicable in my opinion, is the fact that, being in a car, with the rubbish already in a trailer, why on earth did the culprit bother to drive to this destination – a relatively unspoilt country lane – when he could just as easily have gone to the local dump, the official site managed by the local authority? Perhaps it is some kind of ironic and sophisticated protest against the evils of the world, or an artistic tribute to the works of Tracy Emin.
As we were carefully climbing over the bags and household appliances, two policemen suddenly appeared as if from nowhere. I nudged Audrey with my foot. ‘Quick! Whistle,’ I whispered from the corner of my mouth. (I find it advisable to always whistle when in the presence of Her Majesty’s Officers of the Law, as this will ensure that they will not arrest you should they be of a mind to do so.)
I was about to point out to them the Land Rover that was disappearing along Sporton Lane, when the taller of the two received an urgent call on his radio. He reacted with vim. ‘Ten-four! Ten-four! Received and understood! Received and understood!’ (Why do they say everything twice?)
And with that, the opportunity for me to report a crime against local humanity was, for the immediate present at least, lost. They sprang into action and dashed into a side road like Batman and Robin heading to the Bat-poles.
As Audrey and I sauntered happily down towards the brook, a pale sun rose in the east above the elms and purple heather surrounding Blackwell Church, and, with grim predictability, I began once more to fantasise about my life with Anna Friel.
Filed under Anna Friel / Audrey / British Countryside / Idiots / Tracy Emin / Vandalism
Comments
2 comments on “Trailer Trash”
Nelson Galaxy / June 9th, 2008 at 3:09 pm
What a brilliant way to treat the countryside. Bet he lives miles away as well. Whenever I walk around there with you there’s a single shoe or a pair of tights - what’s that all about?
Napoleon Fantastic / June 9th, 2008 at 5:46 pm
I think someone has a compulsion to discard their tights and one shoe every time they visit the countryside.
They get around a bit, too.
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