Murder on the forecourt

I purchase my very expensive, luxury commodity, aka Diesel, for my beloved 'Galaxy the Wondercar' from the local Tesco petrol garage. And every time I make the journey, I am irritated by the 'numpties'. There's a good Scottish word for a Friday.

There is always at least one. I must admit that I am probably less patient, even than usual, when attempting to purchase fuel.. Usually because I've usually been driving around for a couple of days with the warning like shining like a pleading beacon on the dashboard, always thinking to myself that I must get fuel after this journey - and then never getting around to it. So the sheer relief of reaching the forecourt with a car running on nothing but residual fumes always leaves me a little bit short tempered.

There are 12 pumps at our local garage. Six of these have pumps which are situated to the left, and six to the right, arranged in 6 rows of two. There a few types of numpty, which I will cheerfully explain.

There is the 'I was here first' numpty. This is someone who blocks the double lane entrance to the forecourt, so that they can ensure that they get the very first pump to become available. This means that the whole queue behind them spills out onto the entrance road and causes traffic chaos.

Second, there is the 'I MUST get my fuel from the right side' numpty. My car seems to share with what I'd estimate at perhaps 75% of the cars on the road in this area at least, if not in the UK - the fuel cap is on the driver's side of the car. Now, I drive a car which is, in comparison to most, closer in proportions to a double decker bus. And if I can get the diesel hose to stretch over, then I'm sure all of you people who drive sugar-cube cars can do the same. I do appreciate that some people would prefer to wait patiently for the right side, which of course is their prerogative, and I graciously allow you to make that choice without the wrath of my sharp tongue, unless, of course, you are a hybrid cross with numpty type 1. Because nothing makes my blood boil quicker than sitting second in the queue behind this type of numpty, where there are 6 empty pumps and they won't bloody move forward because those available are on the wrong side for their precious vehicle.

The last noteworthy type of numpty is the 'unneccesary verbal abuse numpty'. These are the type who give rude hand gestures and wind their windows down to shout profanities when people such as myself become extremely impatient with numpty 1 and numpty 2 (and numpty 1/2 hybrids) and mount the kerb, pavement, or flatten bushes to get past and head straight into any available pump. Right side or wrong, I can manage to purchase diesel from either. If you lot are all going to sit there, I'm not. I'm a busy woman, and I can guarantee I have between 1 & 4 children whining in the back of the car, so please, if you want to gesticulate & give verbal abuse, you've picked the wrong person.

There are of course moments of embarrassment associated with such impatience. I'm big enough to admit them. I generally go to a wrong-side fuel pump as I can generally go right onto the forecourt and find one available, cheerfully skipping the queue of grumpy drivers. And when you do that with a car as big as mine, you really must get the positioning of the car spot on so that the hose reaches round. It's a bit of a walk of shame when you overshoot, and have to get back behind the wheel & reposition the car. These moments call for sunglasses and a hood, even if it's weather inappropriate. And in the opposite extreme, I have been known to park too close, so that either the hoses smack onto the side of my car, the alloys grind into the tiles of the pump base, or I can't physically lift the nozzle from the pump. The biggest embarrassment however is when you smugly drive straight into a pump and discover it actually cordoned off, covered in signs, and not available for use. Fine if you notice before you get out of the car, you can quickly make it appear as if you were actually just using that lane as an exit route to get your fuel later. More obvious mistake if you've already got out of your car with your debit card & clubcard between your teeth and donned those lovely designer plastic gloves. Oops.

However, on the whole, this entire situation means that one way or another, I generally approach the garage, and get straight into a pump by bypassing the whole of the queue, with a wave and a smile. So thanks for that.

The moral if this story (whinge?) therefore is, please, please, can you just pick a flaming queue and sit there, bear in mind that unless you're in a transit or bigger the hose will stretch, and if you sit back I will cheerfully overtake.

That is all.

Except to say to any of my friends reading this, if you are one of these numpties, I mean it in the most affectionate way possible :-)