Good morning Sir, good morning Young Lady, just fitting a 10 D 500000 to this car here. And did you see that ray of sun through the blanket of carbon monoxide smog covering this fair city of ours? Or maybe it was mere road-rage, a petrol-bombed car exploding after its owner inadvertently jumped the week-long queue for a parking space, and here we are, ho ho ho, still two months short of Christmas.
But sure no matter, you're here to buy yourselves something. Now what would it be Sir, something for yourself, perhaps? We have some fine saloon cars, three litres, perfect in the traffic-jam: air conditioning, CD, adjustable heated seats, top-of-the-range has bunk-beds for the nights when you're parked on the hard shoulder on the Stillorgan dual carriageway, charming little shower for the morning, with a microwave for the breakfast, espresso-maker as standard, and there's even a WC, nice discreet curtains, do you see, just where the old fashioned boot used to be.
Satellite dish
Now don't take my word for it, Sir, just have a look at "The Guide to Irish Traffic-Jams and Snarl-Ups". This model comes highly recommended, not least because of the satellite dish, 120 channels, and of course, vision-phone fitted as standard, so you can tell the little lady which week or even which month you might be home.
We also have this slightly more modest number. No double bed, do you see, but many people do say that double beds lead to temptation, a touch of the midnight frolics, and then where are you? Only in the three-month traffic jam edging into the National Maternity Hospital, that's where. Did you know that 15 per cent of all babies last year were born in motor-cars queuing outside maternity hospitals? So there's something to be said for one bed in the front of the car, another in the back, and of course, if things get out of control, there is also the condomdispenser, not standard, but I think you'll agree, well worth the extra few bob, bearing in mind that the first place you'll queue in your car after leaving the maternity hospital is the infants' school. Oh, years that can take, years.
You know, once upon a time you could leave to drive a kid to school the same morning the little mite was meant to be there. The very same morning. Isn't that amazing? And back in 2000, you could drive - you won't believe this, Young Lady - from Parnell Square as far as St Stephen's Green in a single day, with only a two-hour jam in dear old College Green.
Where are you from? Foxrock? And you made it all this way to Clontarf? Quite the little Livingstones, the pair of you. When did you set off on this safari? Three days ago. Not bad, not bad - you took the short-cut via Dungloe and Dingle I take it? You did? Very sensible. A man I know tried it straight through town. Got caught in the six-month trafficjam in Blackrock, the one the Norwegian expedition had to be rescued from. But unlike them, he had no food or water. Buried him in Mount Argus. A gravity grave. Dropped him by helicoper. His wife sometimes flies in to visit him, throws a wreath down - ah, very accurate, laser-guided smart-grieving, lovely trajectory.
Washing machine
But here I go again, natter natter natter. What is it I can do you for Sir? Perhaps one of these little runabouts with a foldaway bed in the back, nice little bottled gas stove, a portaloo, and a washing machine for a regular change of clothing every week or so? No? Well, maybe this camper, difficult to park if you had a parking space, but sure who's seen one them fellas in a decade or more? Loads of headroom, a disco in the back to be entertaining your fellow traffic-jammers, plus a shower for four, and even a bidet for that extra Continental touch.
What? You're not buying for yourself? You're buying for your daughter here - and she would be what age? Sixteen? Seventeen next week. I see. And needless to say, she hasn't passed her test. And done no driving lessons either? Hmmmm. So what model have you in mind - a little Punto, say, or something small and decorative from Korea, yes?
Parachute braking
No? Ah. You want a 3.5-litre, 200-horsepower, four-wheel drive with in-built wraparound rap sound system, jet-assisted turbo-drive, aluminium wheels, all-terrain suspension, 10 gears, top speed 140 miles an hour, all-up weight five tons, with spoilers, parachute-assisted braking and ejection seats, and the ability to tow a loaded horse-box up Mont Blanc? Plus of course back-to-front baseball hat and dark glasses as optional extras? For what kind of journey? Of course, to get her from her flat in Aston Quay to her office in Custom House Dock.
No problem, Sir, no problem. But here, Sir, I'll give you a bit of a laugh. Years ago, back in the year 2000, when it was still just about possible to drive a car fast in Ireland, they were even letting 17-year-old lads drive around in jeeps like this without ever passing a test. At speed.
The dark old days, Sir, the dark old days. There's something to be said for the modern traffic jams, after all, right? Would you like a packed lunch for your trip home?