Mini Me!

I don’t think I’m a materialistic type of person but the next few paragraphs are going to make me come off like one. A bit.

I’ve had my current car for about six years and yes, it’s looking a bit tatty. It’s been scraped (not by me, by someone who borrowed it- I am an EXCELLENT driver, be assured of that), it’s had the odd scratch from a malevolent teenager casually running something sharp along it as he/she passes by on a Friday night, it rarely gets washed and as for the inside..well frankly it’s slightly stinky.

It’s a SEAT, the poor man’s VW, and it’s served me well this last six years, needing next to no repairs. It’s not exactly done me any favours style wise though. In fact last year when I was on the yearly graduates night out, a group of my drunken students made disparaging remarks on my choice of car and wrote in the dirt on the side, “Cock Piss Partridge”. Which at least was a reference to quality television, so I consider my job done. They also got a bit carried away and started to rock the car as I tried to drive off. I’m taking all of the above as a “To Sir With Love” sign of affection, nothing else.

My friend Dave, who is what I believe is called, a “petrolhead”, helped me buy my car and did all the kicking of the tyres type stuff in the User Car Dealership when I bought the car. I hadn’t seen him for a while but when I saw him last his first comments were, “I can’t believe you’re still driving that car”. He then went on to comment how I he believed I hadn’t washed since I bought it. Cheeky.

But the state of my car is not my fault! For the last four years I’ve been ferrying Junior Misssymartin into her childminders. In that time she has coated the back seat in a mixture of baby-milk, sweeties, apple juice, vomit, pee, snot and tears. She has picked away at trimmings and drawn on the vinyl with a biro. She also once threw her new sandal out the window on a dual carriageway in rush hour, but that’s another story.

We’ve now changed childminders and Meeestermartin takes MisssyM jnr to the new poor soul's house, as it’s on his way to work. The journey is thankfully short and his vehicle should sustain minimal damage.

So, at least now my car is now relatively tidy and the chances of me crashing whilst screaming at JuniorMisssy have decreased about 90%. It is now that MisssyM jnr is out of the picture that my thoughts turn to getting a new car. But I’m no longer prepared to make do.

I desperately want a cream and black Mini Cooper. I have always wanted one. I look at other cars on the road and they just all look the same. The mini stands out; it looks beautiful. It says, “I drive a work of art. I drive a design masterpiece. I drive a British icon”. I want a piece of that action.



I know that I could get a reliable car for around 5K. But I WANT a Mini Cooper. I’m 38 for godsake! Can’t I have what I want? Haven’t I worked for 18 years now? Haven’t I driven a mingheap for six years? I’ve been a good girl all year and I want rewarded. In the words of my second favourite Smith's song “so please please, please let me get what I want, this time…”

I have been checking out Minis on the road for the past six months and I notice that a great deal of the drivers are silly little twenty something girlies. Why have they got a Mini Cooper and I haven’t? I go all brattish when I think about it. I WANT ONE! I DESERVE ONE! They don’t! I am now openly snarling at them, “Get out of my car, blondie! Let a real woman drive!”

So I have decided, all the freelance work I do from now on goes into the Mini fund. And guess what? I just got a contract for twelve weeks of scripting work! The Gods are smiling upon me, it's written in the stars! The mini will be mine, oh yes, it will be mine.

Oh and if anyone’s interested, Much loved R reg Seat Cordoba for sale…... will need valeting.

It has to be yoooouuuuu!