I Was in a Car Crash

And other news.

Sorry I’ve been away. I was in a car crash.

Then it was my birthday (part of a much longer, slow-moving car crash). Plus I’ve been busy on some secret projects.

The car crash was weird.

I was slightly late for my taxi, so I tried to call to let the driver know, but his number wasn’t working.

I then went out to the car park and found the car, but not the driver. This is considered unorthodox in the taxi-driving world.

After standing in the wind and rain for a long time with my inadequate umbrella, still failing to get through on the phone, I called the GB News producers who had booked the cab.

They managed to get hold of the driver, who claimed he was ‘looking for me’. Since I was standing by his flagrantly unoccupied vehicle, this was a clear lie. Unless he was looking for me on foot, perhaps in some other town.

Eventually a man who I intuited was the driver wandered up, over 30 minutes late, did not acknowledge me in any way, then got into the car.

I asked if it was for Nick, he mumbled an affirmative, then placed his bag of food on the passenger seat.

All very strange and non-ideal.

He then opened the door halfway, where it jammed. At that point my instinct was to not get in the car at all. The driver’s behaviour was already bizarre, and was now reaching alarm bell levels. Still, I had to get to work. He managed to open the door properly. I got in.

He then drove normally, but clearly there was something ‘off’, and I texted my friend to speculate that it was either the driver’s last day, or he was perhaps suicidal (a dark joke, but that’s kind of how I roll).

I have taken many taxis with this company, and a certain apathy isn’t uncommon. But it is also understandable, given the excessive commissions taken by the company, the recent spike in fuel prices, and all the other concerns I know about from chatting with the drivers, who are usually good people.

This was another level though. The guy just didn’t seem to care about anything. Turning up on time, having his phone on, basic politeness, successful door opening, etc.

Twenty minutes after I texted my friend to say the driver must be tired of life, he crashed.

(I later sent a message to this effect to my friend, proving my earlier instincts bleakly yet almost comically accurate).

He was turning left onto a busy road with two lanes of traffic coming at us, and just pulled straight into an oncoming car.

I was sitting on the left hand side. I watched as if in slow motion as both cars carried on moving, and the other car collided with my side of the vehicle.

First I heard car horns. Then the driver getting out and shouting at the other driver. Then both drivers started filming each other while I sat in the car, in the middle of the road.

My immediate response was anger. Anger at this idiot, whose aloof behaviour had been merely annoying, but had now tipped over into life-threatening levels of idiocy.

The door was electric, and thus locked, so I said something like ‘You can’t just leave me in the middle of the road bro.’ Though strictly speaking we were far from bros at this point.

He carried on shouting at the other driver, continuing his theme of barely viewing me as a human being.

I tried the door.

To my surprise, it opened.

I got out, in the middle of the road, traffic streaming by, horns blaring, rain pouring…and simply crossed the road.

My instinct was partly to get out of the road, but mainly to get far away from this dangerous fuckwit, whose garbage attitude was now threatening my very life.

My main emotion was rage. I have reached that stage of adult life where rage is my only real emotion. Apart from relief, but that came later.

I arrived at work on foot and explained calmly what had happened. And when I say calmly, I mean I repeatedly shouted ‘He crashed, that fucking prick!’

I rarely use bad language. But, dear reader, he really was a fucking prick.

My hands were shaking but I seemed to be completely unharmed. Hence the relief.

After I calmed down, I felt torn between thinking that, had this been a higher speed crash, I could have been killed, and the reality that it wasn’t a high speed crash, just a minor collision of the kind that no doubt happens daily in London. This made it difficult to know whether or not to have an existential crisis.

In the end I think I only had a mini one, lasting that night and some of the next day, but with no particular negative — or for that matter positive — effects.

In other words I don’t need therapy, but nor have I quit my job and moved to Thailand. Or whatever people do.

I will continue doing the things I’m doing, as I’m finally in a position in my life where they seem like the right things. Presenting on GB News, hosting my podcast The Weekly Sceptic, appearing sometimes on Lotus Eaters, writing my Substack when I can, and of course lifting (very) heavy weights in the gym. I am happy with all those things.

Well, not happy, but then happiness isn’t really my style.

More accurately, even in the face of (hypothetical) death, I may as well continue with what I am already doing. After all, this culture war isn’t going to win itself, and you have my word that I will try to stay alive until it is won.