There I was, minding my own business, tootling along to work down the slightly downhill one-way street in the land that ineptitude built, Croydon. But hark! What was that pulling out from the right hand side of a junction, to then go the wrong way up the one way street, straight into my path?!

It soon became terrifyingly obvious that the driver of the black vehicle had not seen little old law-abiding me, (what’s the matter of a little law between friends?) and proceeded to keep driving in my direction.

In a moment of white blind fear, I yanked my (ironically) super-efficient brakes hard. It was crush or be crushed to a pulp. My bike skidded to a halt and the inevitable happened- I ate tarmac. The worst bit was that it was on the same knee I had injured almost a year ago to the day, and let’s face it the age-old maxim that “chicks dig scars” cannot be inverted to act as consolation in my case. It would simply be a lie.

And what was the good man’s excuse for hurtling on the wrong side of the road in the wrong direction? Drunk? Crack? Diarrhoea? “I go this way to work everyday, do it all the time. It’s fine”. Is this, dear reader, justification for his law-breaking, death-defying antics??

At the time I was too shocked to speak, but don’t the things you should have said always come-a-creeping after the event?

So we at CW would really like to know, what’s your worst ever, shaking with rage inducing, encounter with the other side?

And what, pray, is the solution?

Answers to please.