Twenty years ago I remember driving down Pacific Coast Highway in California with two of my children strapped into their car seats behind me. They were having a humdinger of a row. They were arguing because India had picked her nose and had proudly managed to produce a bogey the size of an ant. While busy admiring her handiwork, her younger brother Archie had snatched the highly prized treasure from her finger and was attempting to eat it. They were fighting so much I eventually had to swerve onto the hard shoulder, clamber into the back seat and sternly lecture them both on the delicate etiquette of nose-picking.
‘Whoever picks it, gets to eat it. Understand?’ I admonished sternly. ‘No stealing one another’s bogies. Ever. Archie — give it back to India immediately and say you’re sorry. I want both of you to promise me to keep your hands to yourselves until we get to the beach.’
I often thank my lucky stars that my domestic Bogeygate occurred a long time ago and over in the States. We poor beleaguered and Big Brother-ed British drivers now risk being legally penalised for committing numerous micro-crimes which can include sipping water, eating, fiddling with our radios, map-reading and arguing while behind the wheel.
All these numbingly trivial, everyday acts come under the heading of ‘driving without due care and attention’ and are punishable offences. Getting a CD10 conviction is the motoring equivalent of an Asbo — not only can the driver be fined and penalty points taken off their licence; their insurance premium is liable to increase dramatically, sometimes by as much as 40 per cent.
I would obviously never advocate driving while playing air guitar, texting or scoffing a white-hot McDonald’s apple pie (these incidentally should carry their own government health warning; eat one carelessly and you’ll probably be turned away from the burns unit and refused treatment on the NHS for obesity). However, I do think it’s rich to try to dictate what people get up to in the privacy of their own car. Having a row with one’s husband while attempting to map-read is surely a marital rite of passage, as is changing the radio station mid-programme.
For the 23,000 unlucky drivers caught swigging from a bottle of Evian on a hot day or nicked munching a Snickers bar in order to keep alert on a long journey, one has to question if these new draconian punishments come close to fitting the crime.
It’s as though this government demands we all become Stepford Drivers; perfect automatons, satellite-tracked, photographed and continuously monitored wherever we go. For those of us defiant enough still to want to drive I have a suggestion. We should all head for the M25 on Bank Holiday Monday, where we will be able to row, play loud music and eat to our heart’s content on the grounds that none of our vehicles will be actually moving.