Rude Road signs...

God, I hate beepers. I dislike my fridge which beeps at me because I've mis-filed an extra large casserole and the door won't properly close. I dislike my daughter's washing machine which has such a shrill beep that I find myself running to open the door and unload at speed.
But most of all I hate the little people who beep at you when they are in their cars. Yes, little people who need to make their presence felt by using their big horns.
"Parp! Parp! Look at me in my shiny automobile. It's a  green light and you have not yet MOVED!"

I've noticed of late that more and more people are using their horns on a regular basis. To be honest, I've always felt it was part of our national psyche in that we feel we do not have to resort to beeping. We have been happy to leave it to our continental friends to beep with gay abandon. I've always associated beeping with a hot climate and a passionate disposition. So what's with the beeping in our overcast climes?
Last Friday Dearest and I took a road trip to Cirencester. Totally beep-free experience, until the return journey. We were beeped. Totally unnecessary. So we did what any two civilised, middle-class sexagenarians would do. Ignored it?
No, we simultaneously gave the cretin three Vs-ups. One hand remained on the driving wheel.
Puerile, but never reckless.