Confessions of a Mercedist mind

(This has appeared elsewhere before, but a close encounter with a missing link moron between the wheel of a Kompressor this morning re-awoke my Mercedist sentiments....)

I have a confession to make – I am guilty of Mercedism.

Despite my good intentions and efforts to live a life of tolerance and political correctness, the word “dickhead” automatically pops into my head every time I’m cut up in traffic by some fat cat driving a Merc. Especially if it’s a Mercedes Kompressor and the driver is a cigar-chomping despot in his late middle-age.

I can’t help it – it's a gut reaction to the sight of these sleek sharks lurking in the seas of traffic of Greece.

They cruise through the congestion in search of minnows to chew up and spit out. Mere Fiats, Fords, and even VWs don’t even register on their radars. Like the sleek predators they are, the Mercs are disdainful of anything less than a fellow shark, or at least a Hummer (even a Merc has to respect the brute force of a Hummer).

Regardless of whether they weave in and out of the traffic at breakneck speed, or sedately tootle along at a pace that would frustrate a tortoise, all Mercedes Kompressor drivers seem to have attended the “Out of my way, peasant!” school of motoring.

It’s that same arrogance that declares to us mere mortals that they own the road - and we’d better not forget it. And, considering the prevalence of Mercedes Kompressors among Greek business moguls and politicians, maybe they DO own the road but – hey! – I pay road tax, sunshine, so gimme a break! You can kiss my lily white backside if you think I’m going to bow down and pay homage just because you’ve got me whipped in terms of horsepower and purchase price.

Anyway, haven’t you ever heard of a little thing called the environment?

Another thing - have you noticed that, almost without exception, the Mercs are driven by men? Usually self-important blokes caught up in the fray of a mid-life crisis and an ever-expanding waistline to match their rapidly receding hairline.

When will men wake up and realise that we girls are not fooled? We have never made the “big car = big willy” equation. In fact, many of us came to the conclusion that “big car = (huge inferiority complex + massive fuel bill)” years ago.
(Point me in the direction of a bloke in a Mini!).

So, Your Honour, that’s why I decorated the motors in the Ministry car park in a variety of pastel shades and psychadelic patterns.

I can't help it. It’s not my fault I’m a Mercedist. I’m a victim of society, honest. Maybe I need a little state-sponsored therapy to help me embrace the Mercedes-owner lurking within me?

Honest, Your Honour! It wasn’t me that sorted your Merc this morning. I know the colours are the same and my hands are smeared with paint, but it must have been a copy-cat vandal!

But, you know how it is when you spot a Kompressor, and your spray-can finger starts getting itchy…

…and I love the smell of spray paint in the morning!