I’m not unfamiliar with our local police headquarters, though not for any sinister reason. I know where all the important places are: the canteen, the hidden car parking spots and which rooms have a tea/coffee machine in them. It’s a matter of priorities .
I’m not an infrequent visitor either and last week was no exception. The police HQ is off a bit of a poorly-designed junction/roundabout that can confuse even lifelong city dwellers. So it wasn’t a great surprise that on my way to the HQ the driver ahead of me got into the wrong lane, and tried to swerve into mine without any warning. We both hit the brakes and no harm was done.
Except that wasn’t the end of it, as the Ford driver  decided I was clearly at fault for not realising he wanted to be where my car was and deserved the full-on treatment usually only reserved for complete imbeciles.
He wasn’t content with a few sharp toots. No, I had the full two fingers plus whatever verbals he was yelling at me within the car, most of which I couldn’t hear. He continued to make rather unpleasant gestures, quite possibly concerning my parentage, until I indicated to go into the police HQ. His face then dropped a little, so I decided to play along. As I pulled into the HQ I stopped my car and calmly waved him on in my best traffic police manner, which evoked a face on his part that can best be described as ‘oh shit’.
Now at no point did I look like I was a police officer but if he wants to assume that, then that’s fine by me. And if it makes one aggressive Ford driver go that little bit more careful for the duration of his journey, then I feel I performed some kind of public service.
 I also know where they train the police Alsatians. Not particularly useful, but they’re very sweet, and this is coming from a man who doesn’t like dogs. I’ve also had one jump on my car bonnet while I was trying to do a 2-way over the phone.
 And they are almost always Ford drivers. Or Vauxhall drivers. Maybe it’s the nagging feeling of inadequacy that makes them turn to aggression?