As K and I stood waiting for our taxi yesterday in Tesco’s car park, we were nearly given a close body shave by a driver who pulled up sharply in the taxi pick up area, where he got out of his rather posh large car and leaving his car door open, quickly dashed over to the cash machines. He was fairly young and sported some designer sunglasses. On returning to his car a few minutes later, he glanced back at both of us as if we were something the cat had dragged in, climbed back in and drove off with the usual flourish that some drivers do who think they are a cut above the rest. All that was missing was the screech of tyres and both of us left standing there covered in a cloud of dust. As he sped away I noticed the last letters of his number plate.
B F A. Can you guess what I said they stood for to cause K to howl with laughter?