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September 2016
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The Annexe

The Annexe

The Annexe
The complete (all fourteen chapters) story in the 'Lower Methil Annexe' series!
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The Odd Poem Mair Odd Poems Even Odder Poems
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A world in verse.
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Collective nouns – 1

One of the main features of my childhood education, was the determined effort by schools, to teach children ‘useful’ information – such as ‘collective nouns’. We were required to memorise whole pages of useful information pertaining to a group of animals or other things.
‘A gaggle of geese’ ‘A shoal of herring’ ‘A court of crows’ On and on and on. Still sticking in my brain after 60 years. All absolutely useful in day to day situations. Well … perhaps not!

There never seemed to be any that refer collections of people of a moronic disposition.
(I do not refer to people with learning difficulties. I refer to people who are just plain stupid!)

Drivers. Young, male, with a predilection for SEAT cars. Like the one that followed me home one day …

As I drove through the town where I work (occasionally), I noticed a black SEAT rapidly approaching from behind. Driver – young, male, impatient. Passenger – young, female, hair tied in ribbons. I always drive within the speed limits in built up areas. Mr SEAT obviously did not. Soon he was ‘biting at my bum’, as you could say.
When we passed the National Speed Limit sign, I steadily increased my speed to 60. I know the road well. Apart from the occasional village, you could set the cruise control to 60, and if it were not for other road users, you would never need to brake. It is a windy road, but 60 is easily maintained.
Not for Mr SEAT. He could not keep up. He fell behind.
Next village – slow to 40. Soon, Mr SEAT comes rocketing up behind. Obviously, his one driving skill is the tendency to drive too fast in a built up area. He clings to my back bumper until we pass the National Speed Limit sign. I increase my speed to 60. A few corners later, he is falling behind.
Repeat this nonsense for the next few villages.

In the last village before I turn off to the lane, heading for home, he has, yet again, caught up to my back bumper. I indicate right in plenty of time, then brake at a very moderate rate, for the turn-off. (One sharp tap on the brakes, and Mr SEAT would be sitting in my boot!)
The turn-off is on a difficult, blind corner, so I have to inch forward till I can see the way is clear. When it is, I turn off the main road. I look back, and Mr SEAT is screaming abuse at the top of his voice. It would seem that obeying the law, and still outpacing him on the windy bits, constitutes a malign slur on his manhood and an insult to his (poor) driving ability. Hopefully, his female passenger will take this opportunity to decline any opportunity to mate, and produce another generation of SEAT drivers.

What do you call a group of bad SEAT drivers? There doesn’t seem to be a collective noun for it! I would be interested in any suggestions.
“A gob of SEATs’ perhaps?

There will be more on this subject. I had the misfortune to visit Carphone Warehouse. More on this subject, soon …

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