A dimly lit street in a drab south London suburb at 8 p.m. on a weekday night. A girl driving to her friend’s house for dinner. Suddenly the girl gets a blinding headache and needs to pull over. She searches in vain for a space but cannot see anything. The headache gets worse and worse until just when she thinks she is going to pass out from the pain she spots a small opening by the curb outside a shop. Thank goodness, she thinks, I can get some painkillers. There is an eerie atmosphere in the dark street as she parks. A climate of fear seems to prevail. If this were the opening scene from a horror film, some really creepy music would start to play as the girl steers her car into the space outside the shabby line of shops.
Obviously the girl is me. I struggle for a few minutes to get into the space, all the while fretting that something feels wrong. I look around desperately searching for anything denoting that this is not a valid parking place. Even though I am pulling up in a quiet street in Norwood, not Piccadilly Circus, I am terrified. I check and recheck, I note the cars stopped behind me and, when I am satisfied there are no signs forbidding parking, I get out of the car and click the lock.
The moment my key beeps a voice from nowhere starts screaming in panic, ‘Don’t stop there! Get back in your car, now!’ I look round and a man is running towards me, people are coming out of shops, everywhere there is confusion.
‘What’s happening?’ I shout. He reaches me in a state of breathlessness. ‘The camera,’ he gasps, bent double from the exertion of running across the road so fast. ‘The camera…’ And he points in horror at a tiny black CCTV machine.
I look down at the ground and spot a bit of an almost completely faded white zig-zag line protruding from my front wheels and, about five metres in front of that, a deserted pedestrian crossing, totally shrouded in darkness. Oh, god, no. No!
I almost fall into the car. My head is thumping with pain, my heart is beating so loud I can hear it. I move the car so fast I nearly crash. I try to tell myself it was only on that few inches of faded zig-zag line for about ten seconds.
But I know They will show me no mercy. Sure enough, a few weeks later, the brown envelope arrives. ‘Details of Contravention: The vehicle identified above was observed on 25/03/2011 at 20:17 and the authority believes that a penalty charge is payable on the grounds of the following alleged parking contravention: Contravention code 99: Stopped on a pedestrian crossing and/or crossing area marked by zig-zags. Location: Norwood Road — Camera 176. Observed by CCTV Camera Operator: LH1379.’
The usual extortionate prices are quoted: £120, or £60 if you pay up now, or £180 if you don’t pay by the end of 28 days. You may appeal and here are 12 things you may base your appeal on, none of which is remotely relevant to you, nor could ever be. For example, you are not the owner of the car; the incident did not happen; you are an alien landed from outer space and have since been beamed back to your home planet; and so on. So you tick the last option — ‘other reason’ — which may as well be titled ‘I give up, I’ve got nothing’.
The appeal rules are spelled out in full but include absolutely no mention of how much you might have to pay if the appeal is refused. This is almost the cleverest thing about it. Without anyone specifically lying, you are left with the totally incorrect and terrifying impression that you will end up paying more if you dare to challenge the fine. This would not be legal, but what do these people care about the law?
I read and reread the penalty notice. I spend a lot of time thinking about Operator LH1379. I wonder if he or she has a name, or if they only answer to LH1379 even when they are at home with their family.
‘Pass the cornflakes please, LH1379,’ their spouse probably says as they sit at the breakfast table.
They have assigned me a number, too. I am LH4546475. I have filled out my ‘representations’ form and submitted it for consideration by The Authority.
I hold out no hope at all that The Authority will side with LH4546475 over LH1379 because £60–£180 worth of vital resource is at stake. This will pay for another night’s shift looking through CCTV footage by LH1379, generating more £60–£180s to pay for more LH1379s. And so it goes on.
Melissa Kite is deputy political editor of the Sunday Telegraph.
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