Fecking driving test!
After sexually abusing a feline in my last foray into coherant ranting on the subject of my less than kosher driving test, I reapplied and included a letter from work. Well the letter must have had some effect because here I am, only a month later, having sat my second driving test. I arrived at the Cork test center at around 8am this morning for a pre-test lesson, after which I spent several tense minutes in the waiting room being finally called around 9.20am. I felt somewhat better going into this test knowing that the rotund assfork of a so-called human being that tested me the last time (tested my driving, patience, etc) was on holidays (according to my driving instructor) and so I’d probably get a fighting chance.
A female tester stuck her head into the waiting room, populated solely by me and my loudly churning stomach. “Only one left, heh heh” or something. That’s what I said, she just informed me that someone would be right with me. Not a minute later, the door opened and just through the doorframe, like a great florescent eclipse, came that same rotund assfork that failed me the first time. The brain went fubar but the exterior remained calm. Something along the lines of “Oooooooohhhh those mother fuckers. I DONT BELIEEEEEVE IT! I tell ya I’m gonna kick some fucking ass if he fails me this time. Ohhhhh MOTHER FUCKERSSSS!” Something like that anyway…
I can only assume that he recognised me as soon as he saw me (given that I mildly verbally abused him the last time we met) and the fact that my name is of the instantly recognisable variety. Curses! He proceeded to phrase his theory questions like tongue twisters and ask me to identify every awkward roadsign under the sun. He asked me to point out the radiator cap in the engine of my van only to change his mind without mentioning it and instead decide he wanted to know where the coolant bottle was. I thought “if I drive a few miles away… I could string him up and nobody would be the wiser…”
Some 30 minutes of unrealistically obtuse driving later we returned to the test center. Mr. Monotone advised me to follow him inside the test center for my result. I walked behind him into the office, pulling the most frighteningly sickening faces all the way. My driving instructor, who was parked opposite the center, had a look of utter woe on his face when he saw who got out of the passenger seat of my van. As he said himself toward the end of the pre-test “You shouldn’t have any problem. Your driving is spot on. The only way you’ll fail now is if the tester is a bollocks or something completely unforseen happens”. Prophesy…
Not only is the tester a complete bollocks, but it was completely unforseen that I’d get this mother fucker twice in a row… EVEN AFTER I’D REQUESTED NOT TO GET HIM!
The tester squeezed himself back into his pained and dated office chair, placed the marking sheet in front of me and spent several minutes pointing out every single minute fault in my driving. I mean this shit was so inconsequential it could be entered for an award for the worlds biggest pedantic twat. “You never gave right of way to a hedgehog”, “there was two people sitting at a bus stop 10 metres from the edge and you never slowed down to a stop”. All I wanted to do was count up the faults on the page and see if I passed. Well, that and insert the large chromed name plate on his desk into his left nostril. Eventually what I got was “You need to improve your driving alot but however, you’ve passed”. I took the certificate of competency, put it into my back pocket, grabbed the fathead by the ears and slammed his face into the desk several times. I then skipped out of the office, leaving him face down on his desk in a pool of his own crushed bone, vomit & blood. When outside, I found his car, deficated on the bonnet and relieved myself into the petrol tank whilst whistling songs from “Chicago“.
…Ok, I didnt, but I would have fuckin’ loved to!