The immense purple warrior

So Sunday was spent helping Mr Chunt and the lovely Nikki move flat - effectively from one end of the road to the other, but don't underestimate the herculean task that that necessitated. And as phyiscally strong and visually muscle-bound as I am, we needed some help.

And that's where the immense purple warrior, the almighty purple-ness of West London came in. It made young children run away in fear, woman gasp in awe, and men turn away wishing that they too had something so... immense and purple.

What was it?

It was a big purple van, you perverts. Get your minds out of the gutter.

(It was, unfortunately, a Peugeut van, not a Chevy one. but beggars can't be choosers)

Alas, I did not take any photos of the van, but imagine this, if you will: a big van, shabbily painted purple; rust holes patched up with copius amounts of filler. A gaping hole in the dashboard that allowed you to see the inner workings of the gearbox. No power-steering (in fact, virtually no steering; at one point I, sitting shotgun, had to assist with steering duties as we carried too much inertia into a particularly vicious corner). And who needs brakes? It was, I'm sure you'll agree, Keith Richards in van form.

**ARTISTIC RENDERING**


Everywhere designated driver Mark piloted the van people stopped, took note of their lives, prayed to whatever god they worshipped, and smiled.

Funnily, one particularly spectacular reversing maneuvre reminded me of the scene in Star Trek III where Kirk steals the Enterprise and they back it out of spacedock. However, we were not chased by the Starship Excelsior. More's the pity...


And we didn't later blow the van up, although I got the distinct impression that Mark would've liked to.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes... regardless of our initial fears, the immense purple van did its work well, despite rolling into a bush at one point.

And so, to the Almighty purple van I say this: I salute you, and all who travel in you.