THE KENT GRAND PRIX

My nostrils twitched as the acrid smoke belching from the cart in front filled the air. I turned around and flipped Alex the bird while laughing maniacally. “Eat my dust asshole!” I yelled, though my visor was down and I’m not sure he heard me. I was going to win this bloody race. I wanted it. I wanted it bad. To stand on that podium and be showered in champagne. To be drenched in that sweet golden liquid…….Ah erm. Yeah I wanted to win.

I revved my engine. It felt good. I no longer feared the tank full of petrol between my legs. These days, plastic surgeons are like modern day magicians. My hands clenched on the wheel in anticipation. My heart started to pound as the adrenaline began to surge.

The grid lights flashed red…………………….then green.

I slammed my foot down hard and ran straight into the cart in front of me.

I went go-karting on the weekend. It was awesome. What made it even more enjoyable was that I only got home at 5AM and had to get up at 7AM to get to Kent. I think I was still drunk.