Emily Mortimer is an "unreliable" driver.

The ‘Cars 2’ actress – who has children Sam, seven, and 18-month-old
May with husband Alessandro Nivola – wants to buy a car but her spouse
has suggested she stay off the roads because her abilities behind the
wheel are limited.
She said: “My first car was an old Saab. And then I had a BMW that my
father-in-law joked he needed tetanus shot to get into because it was
just so full of old half-eaten sandwiches and bits of coke cans and
things.
“But my husband doesn’t allow me to drive anymore because I’m very unreliable.
“We live in New York and my husband refuses to get a car because it’s
just so nightmarish parking and I’m desperate for a car. I don’t know
why, I just really want one.”
The 39-year-old star recently borrowed a vehicle from her friend to
prove to her husband she could cope, but admits it turned out to be a
disastrous move.
She said: “I borrowed a friend’s car when they went on holiday to
prove to him it would be fine and within the space of a morning, I got
three tickets and when I drove past into the back of another car the
number plate fell off so I had to take it to a garage.
“The same time, I got ticketed for driving while I was on my phone,
driving without a seatbelt and then for parking in the wrong place. So
yes, I’m banned from driving now.”

Ceri: Portrait of an Inadvertent Killer {Ceri's Column}

I killed the most beautiful butterfly today. Wow, that sentence makes my look like a soon-to-be serial killer. I didn’t mean to. It was fluttering along, maybe trying to find a new home, maybe trying to find a mate. Probably just fluttering aimlessly. The problem was, it was fluttering 1.5 meters above the M4 motorway.

I wasn’t fluttering. I was moving at a positively super-sonic pace (late for some bollocks, again). I was also encased in my 2 tonnes of steel and fibreglass and whatever the hell they make the cup-holder from.

The colourful mass left on my windscreen really was horrific. I mean, it was like the aftermath of a clown’s suicide jump…I assume. Fragments of red and yellow wing were still visible through the dark gunk, (butterfly lung, ass and uvula).

My next action, on reflection, was quite sick when you think about it…and you have nothing else to do. I pulled a tiny lever and the corpse was washed away in an instance. The remnants of such a beautiful little creature treated as equal to fluff, stains and those bits of crap that get in the way of our otherwise squeaky clean world. I’m a killer. I’m a bastard.

I mean, I couldn’t avoid killing it. The insurance folk wouldn’t accept “I swerved into the tanker to avoid a butterfly” as a valid reason to write off my car and maybe write off a limb or two. But my reaction, or lack of, makes me a killer. And a bastard.

But that spider I Hoovered deserved it. I hope the fucker rots in spider hell…great, now I’ll dream of being in spider hell tonight.

Shitter.

by Ceri Phillips