Yes, you read this correctly.
Brian had his rear ended rudely barged by an orange Land Rover Discovery.
(Who buys an orange 4x4 anyway?)
I was moments away from work, let a pedestrian cross and smash!
But somehow the 4x4 came off worse - cosmetically at least. I don't what what Brian looks like inside.
He's gone to hospital to have his bottom checked. It was just a bump but Mumma and Papa Dodd were concerned about invisible damage. So he's gone for an internal examination.
I had mine - just a bit of whiplash but Brian?
Still no news.
I feel like one of those people who pace up and down outside the operating theatre, but obviously with less drama.
And the worst of it all... While Brian is hoisted up in the car hospital and crying out in pain as the mechanics poke about his insides (no anaethestic for inanimate objects), I am cheating.
Yes my friends, cheating on Brian is the worst feeling of all, and with a brand new Corsa. How will my little Ka ever forgive me...
Perhaps if I tell him I thought of him every time I drove the Corsa, and he meant nothing to me?
Will that numb the pain of me deserting him for another who works better?
Oh the shame.
Come back to me Brian.