Da power of da vest

Hmm. Two months and no post. Well it's tough to type and drive folks. Pretty sure ther'e a law against it. Same as there's a law against smoking and driving (although only in Scotland and only if you're being paid). Smoking, it seems, is much more damaging to the health of Scottish motorists who have jobs than it is for any other road user. So far around 50 truck drivers have been fined £50 for smoking in their cabs. Interestingly, 47 of them were caught by one force - Dumfries and Galloway Police. The bastards are obviously hiding behind the 'Welcome to Scotland' sign armed with wee notebooks and beady-eyed council officials with baldspots and even bigger notebooks.

They must be a scary bunch. I was hitching near Dumfries not so long ago. When I hitch I normally wear a yella vest so I'm easier to spot. As the light left me a local truck screetched to a halt. I hauled me ass into the cab and told the driver I was headed for Dumfries.

He said: "Fuck sake I thought you were a bloody cop jumping out with a speed gun."

To which I said: "Are you going to Dumfries or no?"

"Well, um, I don't normally pick up hitchhikers."

"Are you going to tonight?"

"Aye alright then." And off we went.

Yella vests are amazing things.

So that all the rich people who read this know what I'm talking about, I would have uploaded a picture of a yella vest. However, for technical reasons related to me writing this in a backpackers' hostel in Manchester, I can't.

So I'll describe them:

Yella vests are the fluorescent yellow, super-duper reflective tops that unimportant people wear either to make themselves feel important or when people from the council are about. Kieran calls them "Looking-down-holes vests". I think that's a perfect description.

In the previous entry, I wrote about a guy who, upon hearing that I had started driving trucks, said: "Welcome to the world of Dafties". I think what he really meant was welcome to the world of people who wear yella vests.

Do not underestimate the power of a yella vest. It's kinda like when Eric eats a banana. You become a hero.

Wear one in a city centre and people will ask for directions. Wear one in a railway station and old ladies will ask you to carry their bags. Wear one at the side of a road and shit-scared lorry drivers with nine points on their licence will stop thinking you are a traffic officer. Wear one at a gig and you won't have to pay. Rush out and buy one now. "Where?," you cry. I'd tell you, but you have to join the daftie club first.

PS: Normally when I write this shit I think it out, write it, proof it, spell check it, sleep on it for a few days, re-read it, edit it, proof it again then publish it with an appropriate photo.

Due to this being done on the proverbial hoof in an internet cafe, none of the above steps were really practical so my apologies for the disjointed nature, duff grammar and poor spelling (actually it was all like that before wasn't it?) Anyway, the next toy I'm saving up for is a PDA with a fold-out keyboard so I should be posting more regularly fairly soon.

In the mean time,

Monk out.