Stands for what: Moment Of Truth? Mode Of Transport? Money Over Time? All of those. Most Of Today I seemed to have spent the entire day trying to tax the mini truck. That’s proactive administration for me as it’s over two weeks before the normal breathless panic descends on the post office two minutes before closing time. Still on Sunday I’ll be (not) celebrating an age mostly linked with the meaning of life, so it seemed apposite to begin to get my shit together.
Now many of you non paroled hedgies have had to suffer my many entried whine list, right at the top of which is the bloody nanny state. And you’ll not be surprised as I put the critical into hypocritical with a vocal moan that nobody told me the MOT on my car had expired. About a month ago. A month in which I’ve driven over a thousand miles – essentially without insurance.
The noise you can hear is my Matrix Neo body swerve as I dodge expensive bullets. It does seem odd though that the Government wants their car tax, the insurance company their premiums, but no one seems to give a monkey’s that your car may plough into an bus queue because it’s unchecked for mechanical failures.
A cynic may argue that’s because those particular institutions care much about revenue and little about consequences. And he’d be right, which is exactly what I wasn’t as I harangued an innocent Welshman about their rubbish on line excise systems. I was feeling quite mentally excised as the computer said “No” with ever increasing determination.
“Your MOT isn’t valid Sir” said the nice man receiving my tirade (to whit: “What’s the point in putting this stuff on line if your bloody system offers nothing other than wasting my time for thirty minutes before apologetically spitting out a phone number which offers about 47 options, none of which help at all“)
“Yes Sir, but you can’t renew as your MOT isn’t valid”; / “Don’t be rediculous Man* of course, it is, it says right here valid until July 13th 2009” PAUSE. “It’s August 11th Sir”. LONGER PAUSE “And that’s your best excuse is it? I’m not going to spend any more of my time talking to you, you clearly can’t help”
Neither could four garages. The fifth promised much but has yet delivered little. Specifically a new MOT. Tomorrow I’ll be back hoping for my car, a hire car, some form of divine intervention, whatever to get me back on the road so I can bloody well get on with my job/life/ranting.
I feel I need someone to blame. However, I don’t feel it deeply enough to work out who that should be. As I have a feeling, the answer is probably close to 42.
* I’m nearly 42, I believe I’ve earned the right to be pompus at least once a day