Hilarious as it would be to say I had a crash on my way to trade my car in for a new one, I’m not entirely sure that was what happened.
I was driving very slowly down Streatham High Road on my way to Croydon where the new Volvo awaited me. The traffic was bumper to bumper and we were crawling at a few miles an hour. Barely moving, I gazed out of the window and when I looked back I had shunted almost soundlessly into the car in front. It was one of those prangs where you are not entirely sure the other party has felt it.
I could see there was no mark on the car in front. But it pulled over immediately so I did, too. I jumped out smiling. ‘Gosh, I am sorry,’ I called as the driver got out. ‘But you’re all right. No marks or anything.’

Get Britain's best politics newsletters
Register to get The Spectator's insight and opinion straight to your inbox. You can then read two free articles each week.
Already a subscriber? Log in
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in