Women! Get off the road
2011-10-25 10:00
Say what you like. Call me chauvinistic, call me misogynistic, shake your heads in dismay, tut disapprovingly, turn off your computers, iPhones or tablets. But please, while you’re doing all that go to the closest toilet and flush your car keys as far away as the drain can take them, because, despite all the wonderful things you bring to the world, like boobs, you okes can’t drive for shit.
My colleagues in the office think I’m joking when I go on about the female (in)ability to responsibly manoeuvre a vehicle. Well, I’d like to say to them, once and for all, that I’m not. Women should not be allowed within 250 metres of a car, and even then they should just leave the beer and sarmies at the end of the driveway while you’re washing your prized possession.
I believe in miracles, I believe in haunted houses, and I believe firmly that Saudi Arabia made a huge fucking mistake by finally letting women sit down on the driver’s side of a moving vehicle. What are they thinking?
They could have had it all; vast oil reserves, ridiculous amounts of wealth, camels - who doesn’t love camels! - and roads that are free of the peril of female drivers. Now they’ve gone down the path of the loosely liberal west, and there’s no turning back. Next thing you know they’ll ban public executions.
Disorderly dames
In the last two weeks I witnessed a mother (admittedly trying to tame her two brats) swing open her driver’s door and smash it straight into my car. And what did she do? No, she didn’t grovel apologetically. She just shrugged her simpering, motherly shoulders and smiled pathetically, as if the renegade actions of her door were to be expected and the new shape of my passenger door was something to be admired.
Two days after that some old duck calmly, right in front of my disbelieving eyes, reversed into my front bumper and gaily drove off. What the hell, man? (Old women, hand in your keys when you hit 60, because all jokes aside, and maybe I am just joking, maybe I’m not, you guys should be restricted to donkey carts or locked indoors for our own protection. Except you granny. Your driving is marvellous...for a blind Tibetan monk who first saw a car when they filmed the first 10 minutes of Rambo III south of Nepal in 198-whatever).
Incompetent in traffic
This weekend I was cycling. I stick to the mountains mainly (no women drivers!), but this Saturday past I decided to cycle from home to the forest. And what a surprise; only three near death experiences on the roads of Cape Town, and all involving oblivious women who believe that when cocooned in their automobile they’re protected by some form of invisible force field that allows them to text while driving, talk on their mobile while negotiating a turn into traffic at a T-junction or scream at their pissy children in the back seat when they should be watching where the fuck they’re driving. Hate to break it to you ladies, but there’s no force field. That shit in Star Trek, where they shoot at the spaceships and nothing happens...it’s all make-believe.
Listen ladies. I will freely admit, and always have, that you guys are tougher than men, you can do more than any man can, you keep a stiff upper lip when ill while we crumble into miserable, mumbling mommies boys at the first sniff, and you pop between three and five kilograms of human out of a hole that really shouldn’t be able to do that.
That’s some impressive talent. But for the love of God, you can’t drive. Do us all a favour, and make today the day you hand in your keys and accept that a life on public transport is the life for you.
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