Out of control

Tuesday, September 24 08

Mrs Bennet’s request was granted. The Sexy Sat Nav did arrive. It came with a brand new space wagon which had gadgets, buttons and lots of fancy stuff. Sliding doors slid open and shut, the boot door lifted up and down all at two clicks of a button. Mrs Bennet felt rich. She’d never driven a spanking new car, which gleamed on the outside as well as in. It came complete with DVD player and Sat Nav. But it wasn’t hers. She was in the driving seat for two whole weeks and then she would have to hand over the keys and the pretence of having a full bank account. The Scooby Doo van was having much-needed plastic surgery. It was operating mechanically, but as Mrs Bennet, who was suffering a severe bout of sleep deprivation at the time, had got it wedged between two gate posts and had made matters worse by moving forward – not that she had much choice – it was now wearing thousands of pounds worth of scratch and dent. The fact Scooby Doo was black, highlighted the scar’s impressive appearance. Mrs Bennet had done a very good job. She liked to do things well. But as they couldn’t afford to pay the £400 excess, six months later, Mrs Bennet’s few seconds of misjudgement was still on show until now.
Hence why the Sexy Sat Nav and all the trimmings. Mrs Bennet thought she had been given her early Christmas present, but sadly she couldn’t tell whether it was sexy or not. In fact she didn’t even know if it was male or female. All she knew was that the body was NOT included and neither was the remote control, which the manual said was essential to make it work.
“I shall never know now,” she nodded sadly, “But one day, when I’ve written my book, I will buy myself my male Sat Nav with a deep Irish drawl and I will buy a car like this.”
Having arrived at her destination without the sexy male voice to tell her so, she pulled up on to the Bennet driveway and proceeded to lift Miss Bennet Number Three and Four out and let them into the house. She found a few toys for Miss Rosie Bennet to play with while she went back into her classy vehicle. As she leant over to unbuckle Miss Bennet Number Five’s car seat, the boot suddenly lifted up in the air and shut again and the door she was leaning through, jolted into life and started closing. Startled she swiftly moved her legs out of the way so they weren’t caught in the guillotine and promptly bashed her head on the car ceiling.
“Ahhh help this car’s alive Kezzie! Perhaps I’ve hit a secret button,” she informed her daughter, looking around to see what she’d pressed.
Mrs Bennet couldn’t even find the keys, but managed to pick up the chirping child, who wasn’t at all bothered by the car's moving bits, and squeezed herself and twin into the front seat and opened the door.
Inside the house, sitting at the farthest corner of the lounge was the four-year-old controller. Holding the keys to Velma – the childrens’ nickname for the car as it was Scooby Doo’s friend – was Miss Bennet Number Four.
“Hey, this is fun Mummy!” she announced, pressing another button.
“So it was you! I can’t believe you managed to make that car obey you through two sets of doors and three lots of wall! I was inside Megan and the doors mysteriously shut on their own.”
“Were you scared like in Scooby Doo Mummy?” the controller asked.
“Well it certainly made me jump!”
“Can I do it again?”
“No!” And with that, the small controller reluctantly handed over the keys to Velma and moved on to train travel and started building a track.
Mrs Bennet was so glad Miss Megan hadn’t pressed the lock button too. If that had happened, she and Kezia would have been serving time for a long while. And Mrs Bennet would have been like a character in one of the Bennet girls favourite television programmes, Trapped. The intimidating voice on this occasion would have shouted out her catch line: “Poor unfortunate Mrs Bennet you are trapped!”