“I haven’t got the faintest idea where we are, thanks to you.” Keith said. He tried to keep his voice calm but his knuckles visibly whitened on the steering wheel.
“How is it my fault?” asked Woody incredulously, the crumpled roadmap spread across his lap like some sort of psychotic origami project.
“Because you’re supposed to be directing me and instead you’ve been pissing around with the music, yapping incessantly, scoffing sweets and generally arsing about!” said Keith
The day was not going well. They’d been in the car for 7 hours now. Keith hated driving at the best of times but especially with Woody as a passenger. Woody was a nice bloke but he wouldn’t shut up. Ever.
“That’s not fair! I’ve suggested 2 faster routes but no, you’ve decided to trust some crappy website for your directions. You didn’t even use Google maps.” protested Woody. He scrabbled in the foot well, pulled out a sheaf of papers and waved them at Keith. “Fast-route.co.uk? Arse-route.poo more like!”
“Yeah well…” Keith struggled for a response and eventually settled for. “At least one of us looked for directions before setting off!”
“Look, there’s a layby up ahead, pull in there and you can figure out where we are while I check if there’s any dogging action going on” Woody suggested.
Keith pulled in to the layby and took the map, studying it in silence.
After a few moments Woody piped up “Any moment now we’re going to find the answer to one of the eternal questions mankind has been pondering since time immemorial…”
“What are you going on about now?” asked Keith irritably. He glanced over to Woody who was staring out of the windscreen. Keith followed his gaze and a little further up the road, just by an entrance on the opposite side stood a cockerel. It pecked around in the gravel for a few seconds then wandered into the road.
“If this little chap has the balls then we’ll finally know ‘Why the chicken crossed the road?’”
“Oh for Christ’s sake.” Muttered Keith and went back to the map
“Come on chap, you can do it, just little further.” Woody tapped on the windscreen to try and get the chicken’s attention and coax it across the road
“Don’t mind me” he said “I’m just egging him on”, he nudged Keith in the ribs. “Do you get it?”
“Yes, I get it” said Keith through gritted teeth, not looking up from the map.
“Hey, what’s a Hindu?” asked Woody
“What?” Keith looked up, puzzled “What do you mean?”
“What’s a Hindu?” Woody repeated.
“I have no idea what you’re wittering on about and to be honest you’re getting on my tits” Keith returned to the map.
“What’s a Hindu? It lays Heggs.” Woody chuckled to himself and tapped even louder on the windscreen.
By now the cockerel had crossed the road and was tentatively walking to the car, pausing every few steps, its head flicking from side to side nervously.
“What do you do if a bird shits on your car?” asked Woody
“Shut your face, I’m trying to concentrate” Keith could feel the irritation rising. They were at least a hundred miles from their destination and if he’d taken either of Woody’s alternative routes that figure would be more like fifty.
The cockerel had disappeared somewhere behind the car. Woody was busy adjusting the wing mirror to see where it had gone.
A flicker of movement caught Keith’s eye and he noticed a man run out the entrance from where the cockerel had emerged. Wearing dark brown trousers, a checked shirt and flat cap he looked every bit the farmer. He looked up and down the road quickly then started to jog towards the car.
“What do you do if a bird shits on your car?” Woody asked again. Keith quietly seethed ignoring Woody.
“Don’t take her out again.” said Woody with another dig in the Keith’s ribs
Keith turned to Woody and said sharply,
“Right I’ve had enough of this! I’m going to ask this bloke if he knows how to get back on to the A4142 and I don’t any lame jokes, double entendres, silly voices or any wise cracks from you. Got it?”
Woody nodded sheepishly, visibly shocked.
Keith wound down the window and before he had a chance to say anything the approaching figure asked in a thick West Country accent,
“’’Scuse me lads, either of you two seen my cock?”
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