SUE PERKINS
I was wandering back from work one afternoon when I noticed my car had been vandalized. There were deep key marks down the length of one side, right down to the metal. It wasn’t a posh car, just a dusty, knackered old Mark 4 Golf (‘rides like a Thai prostitute!’ – Top Gear Magazine) but I loved it. As I wandered around to the front, it became clear that the damage wasn’t just limited to a cursory keying – this was full-on vandalism. There, on the bonnet of the car, scratched deep, was a cock.
A cock. I couldn’t believe it. A cock. On my car. A lovingly drawn shaft and helmet scored for all time into my beloved jalopy.