In the interval between World War Two and World War Three, Humankind’s Adversary has been busy designing supermarket carparks and organising a plague of SUVs.
There’s no other explanation for it.
Normal everyday people are transformed into road warriors. Grandmothers reverse into the path of raging white van men. Assholes in souped-up Corsas accelerate away from cashpoints. And Lucifer chuckles, in fact he laughs his rocks off.
A carefully crafted pothole in front of the online orders booth. An icy patch breathed lovingly across a pedestrian crossing. The one free space by the car park entrance. The Mercedes C Class parked across the white line. And don’t forget the devilish one-way system that invites the reckless to drive the wrong way and charge down pregnant women and their screaming infants.
Four-by-fours must be breeding. Surely they are choosing owners rather than the other way round. Can’t everyone see that once everyone has a vehicle that is one foot higher off the ground they’ll have to go two foot and invent an even taller, bulkier, scarier four-wheel drive monster.
Armour plated in certainty we drive the roads discharging righteous anger on the unwary.
Well I’ve got your number, Mister Hasatan. The number of the beast is 4*4+2.
And I’ve torched your motor, motherfucker, on the hillside; stole your keys when you weren’t looking – and now there’s one less SUV charging around a Tesco carpark making me run for my life when I’m pushing a heavily laden shopping trolley.
Once the Devil is done designing supermarket car parks, he’s on to his next job: out of town retail parks. I know that if I die and wake up in Ikea I’ve gone to the bad place.