Grinding exceeding small

It took Thames Valley Police just over a month to decide not to pursue the case against the bus driver who slammed into me from behind while I was waiting on my bicycle at traffic lights last September. It took the driver’s insurers a little over two to admit full liability and begin wrangling over the details. But, golly, you can’t blame Thames Valley Police for being a bunch of quitting, inept, workshy numpties: I imagine that the second month is always the harder, and contains fewer doughnuts. And what we need are front-line policemen breaking heads, not red-tape strangled bureaucrat-bothered desk-jockeys filling out paperwork that leads to such trivialities as solved crimes or the prosecution of those utterly negligent of their legal responsibilities to others. Clarke smash!

Anyway, on Saturday I signed acceptance of the compensation that the insurers have finally, grudgingly offered. The wheels of insurance, like the wheels of justice, grind exceeding slow, but I’m happy to have pursued it. In a way, of course, I’d rather just have the bastard’s licence, his bollocks and the assurance that someone so stupid and unobservant would never again endanger any other road user. In another way, though: cashy-cash-cash!

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