I don't know where you're parked on this godforsaken day, and I don't rightly care, truth be told. Cos I sure as heck know where I'm at: only in the Best Dang Parking Spot In Town.

Bet you was feelin' good down there in Foundation Street, payin' one English pound for your multi storey pitch. Ain't much of a walk from there to the stores. Bet you had the smile of a Cheshire cat out along there in Soane Street, landin' that choice location near the church, free in every sense. Coupla minutes and the centre could be yours. Bet I can do better.

Yep, I'm on Fonnereau Road. No big thing, you say? Usually, friend, that'd be right. Any fool can catch some kerb there, no denyin'. Let me spell it out for you, make it real simple. See, I'm not at the top of the hill, no sirree. Wish I could spare me the time for that perambulation. Not halfway down either, like some bad kid on the stairs. Nope, neither of those. I'm at the end. Not near the end but at the end. The very end. The alpha niche. The omega nook. The plum spot by The Purple Shop.

Is there a car behind? One or two, 'cos they're all behind. That's what happens when you're at the front, fool. Those fellas in my mirror, when they go to leave, they'll be usin' both forwards and reverse gears. Me, I face forward, I go forward, any direction I like as long as it's forward. Like Henry Forward, you might say.

Folks are lookin' at me, 'specially them other automobile drivers. Black vehicle, red vehicle, silver vehicle: inside they're all green. Yep, I'm sittin' here at the wheel. No hurry. Got mints to chew and an owner's manual to flick through.

One minute, I could be sippin' a skinny in Starbucks. Two minutes, I could be cradlin' a cappuccino in Costa. Three minutes, I could be waltzin' through Little Waitrose. You're where in town? Don't matter cos I can be there in five, wherever it is.

Keep dreamin', keep believin', and one day you might find yourself in The Best Dang Parking Spot In Town.