“Keep your feet still!” This is not an ambiguous phrase; it is a very clear imperative. If someone told you to keep your feet still, you would most likely have a very good idea as to what they were getting at. However, in pursuing my goal of becoming England’s premier soap-salesman I’ve had to finally learn to drive and, due to a highly specific form of mental degradation, I don’t seem to be able to grasp this concept of keeping my feet still.
Basically, my clutch control is appalling.
My clutch control is so bad some police came round to question it in a series of unsolved, grisly murders; my clutch control is so bad that a soiled nappy left out in the sun phoned to complain about the smell; my clutch control is so bad Chancellor George Osborne blamed it for stalling the economic recovery of the U.K... I just can’t keep my feet still.
Unfortunately, the mountain will not come to Mohammed so It’s looking more and more likely I’ll have to drive my soap to potential customers/distributors and, far from the liberating experience I’ve so often heard it described as, thus far I’ve only observed hassles, heartbreak, expense and a gamut of stupidity in other drivers that can only be described as fascinating. Hell, thy name is Manchester’s one way system.
Needs must though; fiscally, it’s a misnomer to have 2 people going to craft fairs for relatively slight returns (last weeks combined man-hours for 1 craft fair: 12, not including journey times) especially when one of those people is a highly qualified solicitor.