Death by Killer Potato

I’m taken with the idea of someone meeting their fate in a manner which is appropriate to their lifestyle as in Tom Stoppard’s falling bookcase or Mike Edwards’ bale of hay (see September 10th). I nearly fulfilled my destiny today in a manner which was entirely appropriate to me.

I was driving to the Damson Dene Hotel taking as usual some produce from my kitchen garden, which in this case was two trays of potatoes, which were perched behind me on the back seat. I don’t dawdle on these winding roads, especially as I know them so well. So I was belting along at a fair pace when an idiot shot out of a side road without looking, making me slam on my brakes. When I did so the potatoes behind me shot forward, two of them smashing against the windscreen. I’ve no doubt at all that if one of these potatoes had hit me on the back of the head I’d have been a gonner. A fitting way to go, no doubt.