Thank you Fun Spot Attractions!
Thank you for hiring some little shit of a flyer-distributor to wander around the car park in Chichester attaching flyers under windscreen wipers. Your complete lack of any concern for my property – my car, my fucking car – is most appreciated.
Thank you for getting your little shit to stick that flyer under my rear windscreen wiper. I am happy to report that he or she failed to damage anything and, since I approached my car from the rear and needed to place my backpack into the boot, it was a simple matter to tut, remove that flyer, and place it in the boot too safe in the knowledge I could discard it into the recycling at a later point.
I especially want to thank you for getting your little shit to stick a second flyer under my front passenger-side windscreen wiper nice and low down where it wasn’t spotted until I had started driving. There’s nothing quite like having a small, flapping, distracting piece of paper just visible out of the corner of your eye while you’re trying to concentrate on driving. Nothing. Like. It.
Thank you again, Fun Fucking Spot Attractions, for the increased adrenalin surge that then enveloped me when it started to rain as I was travelling down the A27. Driving at seventy miles per hour with a distracting piece of paper advertising your amusement park while it’s raining whilst considering whether it’s at all safe to switch on the wipers since there’s no way to know whether it will scrape along the windscreen or fly off into the car behind me is something I’ll never forget.
Thank you for making me pull into the first layby I could find and get out into the rain so that I could screw up that particular flyer left by your little shit of a distributor.
Thank you for adding minutes onto my journey home as I waited for a suitable gap to appear so that I could safely pull out.
Thank you for conspiring to cause my car to subsequently be in the exact right spot at the exact right time to hit and kill a pigeon just trying to get on with its life.
Fun Spot Arseholes: you bird-murdering bastards. Thank you.