There is a Place Where M.O.T.’s do not Exist.

My sister-in-law in Guernsey made me bolt upright ” We don’t have M.O.T.s here.” she said. My expression was the same as Jim Carrey from Mask. You know when his eyes popped out and his jaw hit the floor. “What do you mean you don’t have M.O.T.’s?” I asked with a direct glare. While she sat there all smug explaining how she brought her car over to “the mainland.” To you and me, that is the U.K., and her Brother had pointed out how bald her tyres were. She panicked a little, not much, but a teeny tiny amount because she was now in England.

She admitted her tyres were “definitely bald, but we forget about all that because we have no M.O.T.’s in Guernsey.”
Oh well, that was me set off for a session of “What is wrong with England and how we are always ripped off beyond belief” with Peroni in hand.

I am one of those women that are proud of my skills when it comes to my car.

• I can top the oil up.
• I can add the water to the windscreen wipers.
• I can put air in my tyres.
• I know where my spare tyre is, though I am not sure if it is any good.
• I know how to change the time on the radio when the British summer time ends.

Yes, look at me I am ‘Katniss Everdeen’ from the Hunger Games. Only I don’t have a bow and arrow, I have kitchen roll, so my hands don’t get dirty.

What happened next shook me.

What’s the government messing with now? Are we the ‘Tributes‘ from the Hunger Games and sitting at a desk is a power-hungry President Snow thinking “Let’s get the British public to eye role some more with a few Tutt’s and a dash of a sigh.”
Then on May 20th, 2018 they did it. They changed the M.O.T. specifications, making it harder for cars to pass an M.O.T. I am a sceptical person, and I would say the reason for this is more cars need to be sold. Somewhere, someone, in a beautiful building in London has had their income lowered from a trillion and one, to a trillion. They have a partner in a building in Westminster, called President Snow and they changed the rules on us, thinking we would have to purchase a new car.

There are 5 new categories, but in all honesty, they are boring. So here is my take on them.

• DANGEROUS. Don’t go back to the arena for your car, it is not worth the risk. It has been sentenced to death and any fighting you do with your wallet to recover it will only lead to pain.
• MAJOR. Make a decision fast and think on your feet. If you do not heal the wounds instantly with your wallet, this will lead to a inevitable death.
• MINOR. You have time to breathe. Take your time and go and go and sit in a tree and practise being grateful for your near miss.
• ADVISORY. The love you have for your car is growing stronger as time goes by. Monitor this relationship and keep it healthy. Keep paying your car the attention it deserves.
• PASS. Well, aren’t you just walking around with your middle finger up to President Snow? Go on, brag about it on all mediums and be proud. Don’t forget the selfie of you and the amazing vehicle you have in your possession. The status on Facebook should read “Feeling smug.” Tag everyone you know and show them how bloody lucky you are for another year. Your relationship has survived, and you should buy a pamper session for your beloved car. A Hoover, wash, dry and a wax.

My car will not be getting the pamper session as it is in survival mode. I sat at my desk when I got the call. ” It’s not good news, I’m afraid.” said the mechanic. I pleaded, begged and sobbed.

“Please, I don’t want another, fix him. I can’t be without him”

“I’m sorry.” came the reply “It’s MAJOR.”
I look at my wallet, heart saddened and shoulders slumped, with desperate thoughts rushing through my head.
The realisation that President Snow had won the battle, as my beloved goes into intensive care. Please all take the time to send my car positive thoughts throughout your day. I, thank you all at this difficult time.