Off With Their Wheels

And to you

Like Saga-sponsored roadblocks, mobility fucking scooters seem to have taken over my local byways. As if driving isn't enough of a shriek-inducing pisser, this takes my level of road rage to Raoul Moat levels.
Aye, those puttering armchairs that ferry the fat or the elderly at -6 miles per hour are actually on the roads. Yes, the roads. Not the pavements, the actual roads. Do you know how often I've sailed around a corner in the car to find a mobility fucking scooter (try saying the phrase without the f-word in it. It's physically impossible) bang in the middle of my lane? 
There's even one ole geezer who has kitted out his mobility fucking scooter (see?) with wing mirrors. Wing mirrors! And you know what else he does? When approaching a large local roundabout he trundles bang into the middle of 'his' lane creating the sort of tailbacks you'd see in LA moments before a tidal wave. Entire local traffic systems have ground to a halt as the infirm and incontinent chutter through traffic lights.
I dunno. Perhaps these flying monkeys died in the war for the right to terrify grown men and small children with their road-hogging histrionics. Or perhaps it's just the teetering indignance that comes with old age. Either way, they need to get the fuck off the roads. Or, or, I'll, er, nick their batteries. Bastards.