DON’T SUE ME, I’M ONLY THE PROMOTER

It was a beautiful morning. I’d just poured myself a steaming cup of coffee and the radio was burbling something about people who do boot sales not being covered by their car insurance. I’d finished shaving and was just spreading some marmalade on my toast when some idiot pulled out in front of me.

Thanks to my advanced driving abilities I was able to take evasive action and I managed to get out of the situation with nothing more serious than a bit of marmalade on my trousers. Of course the other driver was chatting on a mobile and completely oblivious to my presence. The sooner the law that forbids you talking while you’re driving comes in, the better.

There’s a theory that we’d all drive better if seatbelts were banned and replaced by a metal spike pointing at the driver’s heart. My version of this is a bit less radical; if everyone had to drive with a cup of coffee balanced on the dash, we’d soon see the results reflected in the accident statistics.

One of the biggest challenges when you’re on the road chasing collectables is finding good nutritious food. It’s a problem that rears its head, let’s see, um, every day. Yes, whenever I’m out, I seem to need to eat something, and there’s nowhere to get it. Motorway services are too expensive, you can’t park anywhere near those interesting little restaurants, and besides there isn’t time to eat when you’re going to a toy fair. That’s one of the reasons you read so much about the catering at swapmeets; it’s the nearest some of us ever get to anything approaching home cooking.

The obvious answer is to take food with you. However, it’s one thing to live out of a suitcase, but quite another to eat out of one. You start off with nice little picnics, but the first time you’re running late you think; "Why not take everything to make a meal on the move?" The trouble is you never have time to actually make the sandwiches at the other end either, so the result is you eat bread, butter and cheese, but never at the same time.

I regard eating McDonalds and the like as bordering on masochism, but sometimes you just have to do it. My preference is for two Happy Meals. As well as getting double portions, you can sell the toys and get some of your investment back. The coffee element often raises eyebrows but I just say, "If my five year old wants coffee, she gets coffee".

This situation may change as I see that we can now sue McDonald’s because their fatty burgers are addictive. That’s great for me because I haven’t got a pension and I’m going to need a windfall in a few years. Not that I will be in a position to take on Burger King, as it’s obvious from my lithe athletic figure that I haven’t over indulged in fast food. I must confess I do have a rather sweet tooth though; this should come in handy around the end of the decade when we discover with surprise that sugar is highly addictive. I’m lining up my sights on Tate & Lyle, with McVitie’s in reserve.

While I’m in a litigious mood, I’ve often said that swapmeets are addictive. It’s not just me that suffers when I hump three tables worth of stuff into a hall and takings fail to materialise; my dependents also suffer from living with a toy fair addict. Some day I’m going to have to sue the promoters for the disintegration of my family. The proceeds of this should enable me to retire from the swapmeet scene permanently. Mrs Pete says if I win she’ll counter-sue for loss of Sundays to herself.

Once when I was organising a swapmeet I went to see an insurance broker about public liability. He was very patient while he explained that, basically, it would be too expensive to cover just one event, and that as long as I took reasonable precautions with regard to safety I’d be alright. On further prompting, he confirmed that if someone ran amok at the swapmeet with a machete, I couldn’t reasonably have expected it to happen so I wouldn’t be held responsible.

I have seen a few accidents at swapmeets though, and I’d like to share this warning in the hope that it may save someone serious injury in the future; there’s a type of plastic chair which is usually sold as garden furniture. As they are stackable, they often get pressed into use at public events. However, as they get old, the plastic gets brittle and the legs on these chairs are liable to snap suddenly without warning. It’s particularly unfortunate if the occupant of the chair happens to be old. Everyone looks round and thinks; "Silly old fool, can’t even sit in a chair properly". So, whatever your age, you might think twice before sitting on old plastic chairs.

However, I’m reminded that there are people who make a living from throwing themselves at cars and claiming off the driver’s insurance. Using this principle, if you were attending an auction and your chair collapsed, you might make more money from the insurance claim than from the goods you bought during the auction.

To conclude, I’d like to say that I am not responsible for any activity you may or may not indulge in as a result of reading this column. The views expressed are mine, but I could be wrong. Any loss of earnings as a direct or indirect result of following my advice is tough luck. However I will be pleased to share any windfalls from anyone lucky enough to profit from my wisdom.