God won't help you this time, sucker

One of the things I enjoy most is seeing other people's misfortune. It's not very charitable, but there's a certain irresistable comedy in, say, seeing someone walking down the street while writing an SMS, and walking straight into a lamp-post. It reaches in to your autonomic nervous system and pulls strings other humour just can't touch.

It also has to be genuine. Any comedian can get dressed up as an old lady and fall down the stairs, but to be groin-tearingly funny, it has to be a real old woman*

Also, in some way, the satisfaction level is pushed up by how deserving the candidate is. An attractive woman being attacked by a monkey is funny; An annoying child - or televangelist - being attacked by one is just gold.

FInally, it's even better if you yourself have a hand in the administration of cosmic justice, however small.

So that's why I'm pretty cheery this morning. There's a stretch of Mitchell Road on my drive into work which goes by a school, and on those days, there's a 40kph speed limit, and it's zealously enforced by radar-toting cops who randomly check passing vehicles for compliance.

As we're heading towards the junction my brain, and my brain's brain**, are both telling me to stick to 40, and a driver coming towards us has flashed his lights in the universal signal of 'slow the fuck down', signalling a police trap. I'd forgotten my wallet, and I was at the traffic lights commenting on the irony of being done for not carrying my licence less than a week after actually getting it when Wonderbra Guy pulled up next to me.

I must quickly explain the Wonderbra Effect. It refers to any ostentatious or overtly obvious sign of religious affiliation or piety. Why Wonderbra? It makes the tits stand out more clearly.

So, back to the story. Mr Wonderbra is next to me in a big shiny 4WD, blithely chatting on a mobile phone, and with a crucifix (rosary?) hanging glaringly from rear-view mirror, in a kind of parody of fluffy-dice only dumber. I know if I pull away quickly (as I normally would), he's going to have to change lanes and end up behind me, but if I pull away slowly, he's going to go through the speed trap first, probably too fast and probably still on the phone.

As Penn would have it, I'm feeling The Pull Of The Weasel. And it's Friday!

Can you guess what I did, children? Yes, that's right. I puttered away from the lights like your granddad and watched in delight as our new friend shot into the radar at 50-something kph, still chatting on the phone. And oh, how I laughed as he was flagged over to the side of the road, allowing us to cruise past at a happy 40kph, free and unencumbered by the six penalty points he was now surely going to receive.

And that's why, today, I'm as happy as a shark who's got into the paddling pool.

* attribution unknown, paraphrased from Penn Jillette
** Esther

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