Scenario 1 – Your Fault
So you’ve just had a car accident and it was definitely, unambiguously, your fault.
No bother, remain calm. The first thing you need to do is switch off your radio, so concerned passers-by who rush over to your car window to check on your welfare don’t hear Shaggy’s ‘It Wasn’t Me’ and walk off in disgust.
Next, delete all your WhatsApp chats from the last hour, so when the Joint FBI-MI5 Anti-Idiot-At-The-Wheel Task Force show up, they can’t accuse you of using your phone whilst driving, even though you had been engaged in a heated Jorja Smith vs. Maya Jama debate in one of the group chats.
Pop your hazard lights on, so surrounding vehicles are aware there has been an accident, if all the metallic debris strewn across each of the four lanes hasn’t given it away yet.
Your car is hissing smoke and pissing some dark liquid all over the road, a bit like a drunk serial vaper on a night out. It can still be driven though, just like three-week-old cheddar can still be eaten if you just ignore the festering purple mould in the corner. So drive it onto the hard shoulder of shame, for you to be mocked by passing vehicles.
Your bonnet has crumpled like a sheet of paper in the grip of an angry supply teacher, but that’s the least of your concerns right now. Your door has been crunched in, so you’ll have to get out of the passenger’s side with all the grace of a cat squeezing out of a hyperactive child’s embrace. Ruffle your hair and loosen your shirt collar, then shuffle over, slowly, to the recipients of your carelessness.
‘I’m so sorry…’ (Make it sound genuine; maybe develop a pained expression on your face for effect)
They’ll probably vent a bit then give up once they realize the futility of moaning about the whole thing. Only glance at the damage you’ve caused if they do too. When they do, and begin pointing at various bits of metal and plastic, that’s your cue to take a good look at what you’ve done.
Somehow you’ve managed to push their entire bumper in on itself, like when you press your fist into a baby doll’s face so that the plastic takes on a concave shape and all the facial features converge into one. Do not nod your head in approval at the damage; whilst it may be impressive, in the same way that doing a big poo is morbidly impressive, just temper your pride at least until you get home.
Exchange numbers with the victims and then stare wistfully into the distance, pretending to look for the arrival of your AA truck, even though you’ve literally just called them and it will take at least a half hour in this traffic. Or put yourself in a crouching position behind the barrier as you wait, not on the hard shoulder itself. That way you’ll be safe, but more importantly if any friends are passing by they won’t be able to make out your face.
Alternatively, you could engage in pointless drivel small talk with your new ‘single-serving friends’, in Tyler Durden’s words, or you could just sit in the back seat of your knackered car and feign being on the phone with your loved one (ha), until your phone actually does light up with a call from the AA guy telling you he’s missed your exit and will be an extra fifteen minutes.
When the AA man does eventually arrive, there’s no need to explain to him in detail how this mess came about; he’s literally attended hundreds of accidents – he couldn’t care less. Unless your car was perched snugly between two tree branches, suspended peacefully in the air, overlooking the motorway beneath; then he may, out of interest, ask for your version of events.
He’ll secure your car onto the back of his truck, then you’ll have to suffer the ignominy of sitting in his cabin as he drives you home, like a naughty child being picked up from school by his embarrassed parents for urinating in another kid’s packed lunch box. And don’t be surprised if AA man turns to you whilst sat at a traffic light, sighs and says ‘Now why did you do a thing like that, eh?’
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Scenario 2 – Not Your Fault
You’re in luck! Okay, your car might have been pummeled from behind by a transit van, but look at the positives. This is indisputably, indubitably not your fault, which makes a change.
Do not get out of your car. Quick, do you have any ketchup sachets in your glove compartment or down the back of your seat? If so, squeeze some of it onto the top of your skull and massage it into your scalp like a good conditioner, so your hair takes on a sticky, burgundy tinge. Bring up your child booster seat from the floor and prop it on the back seat, in full view. Now, wait until van man gets out and approaches your window to check on your health.
‘Ohmygodimsosorryareyoualright?’
It’s van woman, not van man. This could work in your favour. Grip your neck with one hand and the top of your head with the other, and climb out gingerly. Keep your neck very still and turn your whole torso rather than just your head, to feign whiplash. Picture Quasimodo and try to adopt his posture as you look up solemnly to address van woman.
‘My neck…My back…’ (Don’t break out into song, this will blow your cover)
Pinch a tuft of sticky, ketchup hair, then look at your fingers, then touch your hair again. By this point van woman’s complexion should change as she realizes she’s drawn blood with her reckless actions.
‘My son could have been back there…’ Point longingly at the booster seat, then turn your body gradually to van woman to gauge her reaction. She’s just doubled over and is dry heaving, leaning on the barrier for support. Resist the urge to comfort her; you’re the victim here, remember. Think of the compensation money.
Shuffle slowly to the rear of your car to inspect the damage, like a veteran crime scene investigator poring over the scene of a murder. You have no idea what you’re looking at, but she doesn’t know that.
As she staggers over, explain matter-of-factly what’s happened to your vehicle whilst using jargon to convince her you’re right. Words like ‘piston’, ‘axle’ and ‘alignment’ are useful. She’ll probably nod her head, then shake it ruefully in disgust at herself.
At this point you could stick the knife in by repeating the idea that your child could have been in the car with you, and allow this thought to float in the air, or ease up and partake in some chitchat with van woman to soothe her nerves; up to you really.
Just remember to maintain the ‘stiffness’ in your neck throughout your interaction and don’t allow her to inspect the ‘cut’ on your head, otherwise if she gets even a whiff of ketchup you’re in trouble.
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A Series Of Pointless Conversations 