Back from lunch at the local cafe, I notice some blighter has smashed into the TT, and duly buggered off without leaving their details.
I assume it was one of the hoards of white van men who swarm around the area, due to the amount of renovation work being done by millionaires like myself. But it could have been one of those gnarled old gippers that hoon around here, propelled by some sort of battery-powered undercarriage, much like that creature Davros who was supposed to have created the Daleks in Dr Who. I must say, there are thousands of them here, and you often see them spinning out of control due to the top half succumbing to a sudden stroke, or merely dozing off for its afternoon nap.
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