Surf-Film-Maker Chap is driving to Hull, and stops for fuel somewhere near Birmingham. He pulls up behind a car, fills up, pays, gets back in the van, sticks the keys in the ignition. Just as he's doing this, a jeep reverses into the previously vacant space in front of him. There's a car behind, so he can't reverse; and now he can't get out. So he toots his horn.
A man in snakeskin boots flies out of the jeep and starts towards him. Surf-Film-Maker Chap leans out of the window. The man presumably clocks him, realises he's possibly not as easily bulliable as first anticipated, and applies his brakes.
Surf-Film-Maker Chap: Are you Darren fucking Day?
Darren Day: Yeah. What's that got to do with it?
Surf-Film-Maker Chap: It's got everything to do with it, you fucking twat!
Surf-Film-Maker Chap has now mooned John Craven, *and* called Darren Day a "fucking twat". In claim-to-fame terms, I have some serious catching up to do.
