I seriously considered beginning this with “dear sir”, or “dear angry man”, but frankly you don’t deserve that level of respect from me.
Let’s start with this: even if my car door had touched yours (and it didn’t), even if I had the recklessness to alow my car door to MARK yours in any way (which it couldn’t because it was two whole inches away) you do not have the right to speak to me that way. You would, in the second instance, have the right to be angry, but I will still demand to be treated with respect over an accident.
But that’s a moot point because my car door was nowhere near your “beautiful new paint” on your giant, red, penis car.
So you don’t get to storm over and shout at me that I should “LEARN TO BE MORE CAREFUL” and “LEARN SOME RESPECT”. At that point my car door DID touch yours, because you leaned over me, the lady on crutches, to grab my door and moved it so that it WAS touching your car.
So now you’ve done the thing that I didn’t do, that you are shouting at me for almost doing. Wow.
I’m kinda feel sorry for you. I mean, no man in his 50s with a working cock and the ability to pleasure his wife buys a red phallic monstrosity. You might as well stick a pair of teeny tiny balls on the back to replace the pair that you clearly do not have.
I feel kinda sorry for you because no man you gets that angry over a young person ALMOST MAYBE POSSIBLY IN AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE touching your useless oversized vehicle (that’s totally not compensating for anything at all) can have much else in his life. I’ve been the daughter of a man who was angry about everything, and guess what: I didn’t exactly like him. I bet your kids hate you, and only speak to you to ask for money.
Besides which, if you value things over people (as I explained, I have to open the door wide to GET OUT MY CRUTCHES) that much, you must have a really miserable life. The kind of life where you always did what you were “supposed” to do, and now your kids are grown, and you’re looking at retirement, and you’ve done nothing with your life.
Maybe I should feel sorry for you. Maybe I should be please that your actions have provoked me to be extra kind to every person I encounter for the rest of the day.
But, frankly, go fuck yourself with a rusty pole. I hope you get tetanus.
Ps your wife did not at all look like she was considering divorcing you over your dickhead behaviour. Good luck with that.
Pps you live in Brighton (don’t think I didn’t see your residents parking permit) you DO NOT NEED A GIANT SHINY PICKUP TRUCK. Or maybe you do, since it’s a big red warning to everyone who sees you in it that you’re an insecure ass hole.
Ppps I feel better now. Maybe just fuck yourself with a clean pole. Sideways.