Car drivers here should give up caffine instead

Posted Friday 2nd October 2015   By Ericka Waller

Do you know who I am? We finally know who Ronnie Pickering is this week, after the ex ‘bare-knuckle fighter’ from Hull was caught on camera being rather hostile to the motorcyclist in front who was waiting to turn right. Pickering decided the motorcyclist was taking too long to make his manoeuvre. From the video, the delay looked due to the fact there were cars coming in the other direction, but ‘One-punch-Ronnie’ was in a hurry and started beeping his Citron Picasso horn in an aggressive fashion, before following the biker and demanding he stop his bike so Ronnie could call him a string of obscenities before asking ‘Do you know who I am?’ four or five times, then offering him a fist fight. The motorcyclist, Mr Steve Middleton said “When he said 'Do you know who I am?', I thought he was going to say he is some sort of gangster. I don't know of any gangsters in Hull.”

One twitter user said “I know who Ronnie Pickering is, I also know his brother Reggie, one of the most feared gangsters in Hull”

Steve claimed that in the past he would have lost his temper, but gave up coffee and is now much more laid back.

Maybe Brighton drivers should give up caffeine for Stoptober in that case, because there is an awful lot of road rage round here.

When we get in our cars, we are not simply travelling to our destination; we are heading off to war.
War on anyone who dares drive too slowly (AKA, the speeding limit)!
War on anyone attempting to cut us up in feeder lanes!
War on parking spaces! War on women in big cars they can’t drive!
War on cyclists, the filthy road-tax avoiding, lycra-wearing scum!

Why has it come to this? I was behind a car when it broke down along the Falmer road this week, leaving me no choice but to go around it. This annoyed an oncoming white van so much he sped up and roared past whilst me making a hand gesture that could have been swearing, or could have been an impersonation of Gareth Hunt in the Nescafe advert from the 80’s.  Hmm, maybe coffee really is to blame for road rage.

I stopped showing my annoyance at other drivers after I was cut up at the traffic lights heading into Peacehaven. I beeped my horn to show the driver I was not pleased. He slammed his brakes on, forcing me to do the same. He then got out his vehicle, punched my window repeatedly and demanded I get out the car for a fight. I was 38-weeks pregnant at the time. I put my hands over my bump and waited till he gave up.

Surprisingly it’s the older generation who are the most aggressive in their cars. You’d expect it from our angry, dissatisfied youth, not white haired gentlemen on their way to church. More surprisingly still, like in the case of Ronnie Pickering, their wives are sat serenely in the passenger seat, having heard it all before.

People never give constructive criticism to other drivers, for example “Excuse me sir, any chance you could pop your indicator on next time old chap, makes it rather difficult for one to guess when you may be stopping without it, other than that, good driving, lovely use of the wheel”. 

They give destructive criticism; forget driving gloves off, this is bare-knuckle fighting talk. Size, gender, race, car model, anything than can be used against you will be, with great gusto and lots of swear words.

I remember my dad marvelling at the traffic at the end of our road when we waited to pull out “Where are they all going?” he would muse in true bemusement. Dad, I think I finally know the answer, they are off to get a coffee.

And finally

I am very sad to say goodbye to Father Martin Morgan this week. He’s been the Vicar at St Margaret’s church in Rottingdean for 21 years.

Originally, I only started attending to get my children into the school, but found Father Martin (FM) so engaging, so funny and so spot on with his observations that I began to look forward to Sunday services.

He christened all my children, and has been a massive support to me throughout my troubles. When he says it’s all going to be alright, you really feel that it might be.

I will miss his wit, his love for my loud children, his passion for people and the heady smell of his aftershave.

The village will not be the same without him, and the poor person taking over will have some very big shoes to fill, shoes not robes!

Enjoy your race horse, your family and your G&T’s Father Martin, you’ve earned them.

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