Arseholes

This is what I woke up to this morning. Well, not THIS exactly, because this isn't a photo of my actual car. Funnily enough my first thought on discovering that some little scrote had put a baseball bat through my passenger window was not "oh, I must go get my camera and take a photo of that for my blog." But you get the picture. Ha ha.

Nothing was stolen. Truth is, there's nothing in the car TO steal, but since there was a heavy frost last night, the bastard had to smash the window to find that out. And if it had been one of those rare but occasional days when I'd forgotten to take the car radio panel out? Well then he would have won the star prize. A bog-standard, manufacturer's issue, crappy CD radio that won't play 8 out of 10 CDs and takes an hour to warm up to the point where it will turn on, if you made the mistake of turning it off. Whoop-di-do.

Who buys knock-off car radios anyway? And what would it fetch - a tenner? I would gladly give the twat a tenner just to save the hassle: a very cold and windy drive there and back to drop Nikki at work, staying in all day for the glass repair man and therefore not being able to get the grocery shopping done until 9pm, and an hour sweeping the broken bits off the footpath which, being old tarmac, hangs on to those little bitty pieces like they were diamonds. Oh and the small matter of £120 for the replacement glass and fitting. Which coincidentally is exactly the same as the insurance excess for window damage.

There's just a chance that someone saw me fiddling with my iPod and RoadTrip a couple of Sundays ago and wondered if two weeks was long enough for me to become complacent and leave it in the car, but the most likely explanation is they did it for a laugh. The same kind of laugh they get from smashing the glass bus shelters that we see littering the pavements every few weeks. Funny, isn't it?