The Mummy Racer is an angry and compulsive beast, so don't be fooled by her cunning disguise as a paragon of maternal virtue: it takes more than a Boden shirt and Birkenstocks to make a saintly matriarch. She may smile sweetly enough if you bump into her in the aisle at Spinneys, but God help you if you get ahead of her on the Sheik Zayed Road... she's got headlights and a highly effective horn and, by gosh, she sure knows how to use them.
MR's natural habitat is in the driving seat of the biggest, fastest car she can persuade her husband to cough up a hefty wodge of his annual bonus on - ideally something a bit flash with a huge throbbing engine, for MR is a bit of a petrolhead (her secret crush is Jeremy Clarkson - she often fantasizes about the two of them trawling car showrooms together and engaging in lively discussions on piston performance... )
MR has perfected keeping a manically happy smile on her face whilst roundly abusing other drivers for their lack of skill and general idiocy; she may be outraged but she's not a fool and, while often tempting, the momentary satisfaction of flicking the bird at that ar*se who just cut her up at Exit 36 really isn't worth the risk of being deported - especially since there's no way they could afford a Land Rover with a V8 engine and all the trimmings back in good ol' Blighty.
Whereas other Dubai housewives hide the telltale shopping bags in the back of their wardrobes, the MR goes to extreme lengths to conceal her many speeding tickets from her husband (after all, even the most highly domesticated creatures have their limits). Bitter experience and valuable insider information has taught MR not to pay her fines online or at one of the handily located booths as both result in an automatic SMS to the registered car owner to confirm payment. Going in person to the RTA office, however, and paying the fine in hard, cold cash ensures that her husband remains happily ignorant of her speed-related excesses.
Now, if only MR could work out a way to spank the family credit card at Bloomies without hubby being aware of every single transaction... then life would be practically perfect.
Most likely to say: "OUTTA MY WAAAY!!!"
Least likely to say: "My car? Oh, it's just a little runaround to get me from A to B...and it's a lovely shade of sky blue..."
MR's natural habitat is in the driving seat of the biggest, fastest car she can persuade her husband to cough up a hefty wodge of his annual bonus on - ideally something a bit flash with a huge throbbing engine, for MR is a bit of a petrolhead (her secret crush is Jeremy Clarkson - she often fantasizes about the two of them trawling car showrooms together and engaging in lively discussions on piston performance... )
MR has perfected keeping a manically happy smile on her face whilst roundly abusing other drivers for their lack of skill and general idiocy; she may be outraged but she's not a fool and, while often tempting, the momentary satisfaction of flicking the bird at that ar*se who just cut her up at Exit 36 really isn't worth the risk of being deported - especially since there's no way they could afford a Land Rover with a V8 engine and all the trimmings back in good ol' Blighty.
Whereas other Dubai housewives hide the telltale shopping bags in the back of their wardrobes, the MR goes to extreme lengths to conceal her many speeding tickets from her husband (after all, even the most highly domesticated creatures have their limits). Bitter experience and valuable insider information has taught MR not to pay her fines online or at one of the handily located booths as both result in an automatic SMS to the registered car owner to confirm payment. Going in person to the RTA office, however, and paying the fine in hard, cold cash ensures that her husband remains happily ignorant of her speed-related excesses.
Now, if only MR could work out a way to spank the family credit card at Bloomies without hubby being aware of every single transaction... then life would be practically perfect.
Most likely to say: "OUTTA MY WAAAY!!!"
Least likely to say: "My car? Oh, it's just a little runaround to get me from A to B...and it's a lovely shade of sky blue..."
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