Got a bit of a shock last bank holiday Monday. Chugged into work in the Bavarian Princess and left her sitting pretty in a loading bay on Westmoreland Street, secure in the presumption she was safe from the evil clutches of the clamper man.
All went swimmingly until I made the mistake of casting an admiring glance through the window of my ivory tower at her. My heart sank. Suspicious white sticker tucked under the window-wiper.
"Arra feck," said I. "The dirty sleeveens. No fair."
Luckily, it turned out I hadn't been visited by the clamp fairy at all - 'twas just someone offering to buy the Princess. As if.
But my reaction tells you a lot. I'm fierce distrustful of the clamper man these days.
I'm taking it you all enjoyed the fate that recently befell one particularly odious member of the breed who was done for dangerous parking and obstructing the traffic on Dublin's Mespil Street while his colleague clamped two cars, despite being ordered to move by a garda. The judge, a wise fellow by all accounts, lambasted him for thinking he had a "God-given right" to carry on as he wished. Bang, €350 fine and thanks for coming. That'll learn him.
While this tale may fill you with a modicum of glee, it's with a heavy heart that I have to tell you that, if you think this character was on a solo mission from the Beardy Fella Above to torment the innocent, think again.
Take, for example, this sorry debacle: a Swiss couple arrived in the beautiful city of Galway some weeks ago. A dutiful race, the Swiss, so dutifully did the male of the operation trot off to buy a pre-paid ticket before ambling dutifully away for a few hours of touristing.
What did they find on their return but the jaws of petty officialdom chewing away at one of their car's wheels. Turns out our pal had bought his ticket on the side of the street lorded over by the Harbour Company and parked it on City Council territory. Or vice versa, I dunno. I'm as confused as they were. €80 it cost them.
How's that for international relations? "Céad míle fáilte to yis, and while we're at it, here's a massive fine to give yis sumthin' to remember us by." Charming. They shan't be back.
Pitiful as this tale is, it pales compared to the antics of two cowboy clampers from Portsmouth who were - you're going to like this - jailed for seven years between them for their antics. And no, in case you are wondering, they didn't cruise around wearing Stetsons and immobilising bullocks. Although they'd probably have tried, given half the chance.
This pair of reprobates had been blackmailing innocent motorists for months. Their modus operandi was simple - one would corner victims with a van while the other would run around the back and clamp them. Then they'd demand extortionate release fees.
The court heard they clamped a woman midway through a three-point turn and a man sitting in his car with the engine running. They even tried to clamp a moving car. Imagine that happened to you - you'd be looking around for some crowd of cretins with a TV camera, wouldn't you?
It gets worse. The RAC has a litany of horror stories of British clamping monsters, with targets including a postman's van, a hearse (with body in situ), a Good Samaritan who stopped to help a hit-and-run victim and an 82-year-old disabled man who left his car at their mercy while he popped in for his pension.
One clamper threatened recalcitrant clampees with his pit-bull, while another told a woman he'd accept sexual favours, or, failing that, her gold tooth in lieu of payment.
And then there's my favourite - a clamper who latched his metal fangs onto the back wheel of a car that had stopped because it had just been run into and destroyed by a van - driven, of course, by the self-same clamper.
I could go on, you know. But I think we've all heard enough, don't you?