The green machine will tell you all

Here she comes, laden with gym gear again to throw onto my back end and no doubt stay there unwrapped. Terry the tyre squeals every time she throws something in there, it hurts his tread but she doesn’t seem to care. It’s all me, me, me, fat fat fat, wedding, wedding, wedding. Maybe if she left me at home once in a while she would lose some weight. I burn more petrol than she burns calories. Everyone knows her. Here comes Rosie and her green machine. Green Machine? I was christened Clio, a beautiful French name that this philistine has chucked away. I’m more than a machine, I look after her with sheer devotion, swoon when she takes me to see the nice men with the soapy water and polish, squeal with delight when I get to stay over at her dads – my Papa. In fairness she does treat me really well but she’s off her head. I don’t know how many times I’ve hid her round the back of the shops so she can indulge in chocolate, chip butties and crisps.

She then tells M that she’s been really good. I used to give him a jolt every so often but he has a sore back so I’ve stopped that now. He’s a decent guy right enough, and in fairness likes his share of the takeaways. Her excuses are classic though.

I’m not jealous of the wedding, well I am a bit because I’m not invited. She’s only gone and booked a Rolls Royce to take her to Gretna and back. I mean really I can do that journey with my headlights off. I’ve been up and down there so often now I could be your sat nav. And Mr Rolls Royce will never take care of her the way I do. I sometimes get so annoyed at her that I refuse to open the door to let her in. She squeezes the button so hard that the look on her face is hilarious and still I don’t budge. Only when she’s at the point of begging do I relent.

Just after the proposal I was so furious that when she started the engine and got out to scrape the ice from my eye I pulled the door shut, pushed down the button and left my engine running for over an hour. The whole street was out trying to help her get inside, meanwhile I was heating up nicely. What idiot puts their spare car key in their bag and then sits it in the car. Now wonder she couldn’t get back in. I still get a right good giggle when I think about it and it cheers Terry the tyre up no end.

A nice man tickled me with a coathanger so hard that I had no choice but to let her back in. I was almost leaking petrol it was so funny.

Anyway, she’s not as fat as she thinks she is and I love it when she gets done up and sits inside me and takes me out a run. A great day out is when Harriet hairpiece comes along to play, that girl is so glam and a real scream, she’s not invited to the wedding either and I don’t think she’s too happy about it. But Rosie being Rosie has a vision of how it should all be, personally I think I should be Chief Bridesmaid and Harriet the flower girl but she has so many females in her family the competition is fierce. I know I’ll be involved in the run up to the wedding though, so that will have to do, wouldn’t mind a wee photo with me in it though.