I saw a dead cat today. Normally, I'd get out, scrape the thing up and that would be lunch sorted.
But this was in a traffic jam on the M3 near Winchester, and there it was, as flat as a pancake in the central reservation. It was, and I swear on my builder's life, fucking huge, about four feet in length monstrous fangs and tiger stripes. God thing it was dead - it could have had my face off in the blink of an eye. I have half a mind to ring Marwell Zoo and ask if they're missing anything. God knows they've got enough trouble with penguins getting out, terrorising old ladies for fish.
I would have taken a photograph for you, but my camera was in the boot of my car, and some people do not share my lax attitude to traffic laws. Some journalist, I.
Then I saw a car with the number plate B16 UNS, and I laughed like a big stupid.