For anyone without access to any news media, London has been chosen for this year's Olympic games.
And don't us Londoner's know it.
After two years of the most cretinous road works, mostly still fenced off and never touched for the past twelve months, London's roads are virtually undrivable. Ignoring the white elephant that is Crossrail and that there's a perfectly good tube station very close to the Olympic site, they've dug up every road from here to Timbuktu to get ready.
Add to this mele the Queen's jubilee celebrations, and you've got a situation that even the most drunken film director could come never come up with.
Today, after spending half an hour watching the slime trails of slugs passing the car, I was accused by a policeman of speeding.
'There isn't a road in this entire city that I could speed., Are you out of your mind?
'Don't get cheeky. My instruments clearly show that...
'Maybe it was showing you that GT slug. Look, there's one now.' I pointed out the reckless invertebrate speeding past the solid line of stationary cars, their congested fumes making LA seem like a health spa in comparison.
On the plus side I did get almost a chapter of my new novel written, if only in my head.
I got off the speeding charge as the man's attention was suddenly drawn to three bollards rolling across the street as some impudent driver took the opportunity to accelerate to three miles per hour after some previously broken traffic lights all sprang into action, giving four roads priority at the same time.