The final weapon in an ambulance drivers arsenal

Go on guess...

This?

Or this?

Maybe this?

Or even this?

No your wrong. In fact the final weapon to deploy is the screaming attendant out of the passenger window.

A reputable parcel company I understand has deadlines to meet and obviously has to make progress through traffic. Not that I am convinced they need to speed in residential areas and generally drive like a man without the gift of sight.

However I honestly doubt that whatever letter or parcel they were trying to get to somewhere was more important than my ambulance trying to get to a lady who couldn't breathe. I would venture that your parcel can afford to be a few minutes late and nobody will die however every now and again people who do not breathe have a nasty habit of keeling over.

If you honestly cannot hear a vehicle horn, an airhorn, and the varying different siren tones I was engaging as well as noticing the flashing blue lights and headlights illuminating your little van and everything around you then perhaps you may want to consider an alternative career.

When it is getting to the point of an attendant leaning out of a window trying to gain your attention as you ignorantly pull in front of my vehicle, when you see all those lovely cars moving out of the way, just so you can get your parcel to the destination, did it never occur to you that nobody gives a flying fuck what you do?

Then as several minutes later of you enjoying people moving out of your way onto the kerb on heavy traffic you decide that maybe you have pressed home the advantage enough and it is time to let that rather irritating vehicle behind past you instead stop blocking the road and shrug at the attendant who is trying to explain to you to MOVE OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY

With any luck the parcel you were carrying is laced with anthrax or better yet radioactive material in the hope that it will sterilise whatever excuse for a pair of testicles you carry round in your trousers. If your sperm aren't swimming like an amputee with a heavy dose of sedatives then I am deeply concerned for the future of whatever subhuman species you could possibly father.

This is of course assuming that you overcome the problem of how as a delivery driver with a GCS in negative numbers could actually find a woman that possibly stifle laughter for the brief few seconds required for you to perform the task.