Simoni Racing SRSF/1N Sport Seat Nigel

And so it was one fateful eve, on a black, still night with wind rattling the windowpanes and lovers strolling in the sunny moonlight, that I decided to visit my friend. Fortunately my friend lived just one floor above me allowing me to avoid the unseasonably contradictory weather that was common for that time of year.I walked into my friend's flat (he never locked the door) and was confronted by a chair in the hallway. A chair in the hallway doesn't sound so odd, you may think, except that this particular hallway was barely wide enough for a grown man to squeeze through. If you were carrying anything bigger than a thick envelope then you were in trouble. The idea of any furniture in this hallway was at odds with everything I believed about the universe. Added to which this wasn't any normal chair but a car chair, apparently bought by my friend to put in his pride and joy, a brand spanking new (third hand) sparkling white (used to be white, now the colour or badly aged tile grout) Honda Integra which he fervently insisted was not compensating for anything at all, honest.My friend's head appeared out of the living room closely followed by the rest of him. "What do you think?" He asked. "It's a chair!" I replied astutely, surprising myself with hitherto before unheard of observational skills. "It's great isn't it!" He enthused misinterpreting the complete apathy in my tone to mean "please, please tell me every last detail of this wonderful product before regaling me with the tale of what you were thinking\wearing\eating when you ordered it before surprising me with the shocking twist ending of how something you ordered actually got delivered."I stoically endured his enthusiasm for about 3 ½ seconds before resorting to violence. I set about him with the back of my hand until he silenced then asked "What's it doing in the hallway?" He claimed that it was currently too hot\too cold\too dark\too late to go working on his car. I surmised it had more to do with the fact that his girlfriend was still at work and so wasn't available to stand around handing him tools and looking suitably impressed while he installed this latest addition to his mobile euphemism, but I held my tongue.We proceeded into the living room where I found my second surprise of the evening. "It's a box!" I said testing out my new found powers of observation, but this didn't do it justice. This wasn't merely a box but a BOX, about 60cm square at the base and standing over a metre tall this was a lord among boxes, a veritable king of cardboard containers. "I wonder what was in it." I wondered, marveling at the coincidence that my friend should come across such a perfect receptacle for something like a car chair on the same day his new car chair was delivered.My friend, a little dejected at not being able to test drive (boom boom) his new toy and feeling a bit silly sitting in it in the hallway making vroom vroom noises, decided to engage in his favourite pastime of tormenting the pet dog Captain Jack. Young Jack was a charming little mongrel who seemed to be curious cross between a West Highland terrier and Cerberus himself. My friend put the box on its side and decided it would be the height of hilarity to lure Jack into the box (Jack in the box, get it?) before tipping the box upright again trapping the poor little mite for all eternity, or at least until we got bored of his whining.My friend's flatmate (who had escaped previous mention) and I watched with mild interest since it was only Hollyoaks on the telly and the remote control had once again been devoured by the ever ravenous sofa cushions, I mean we could have stood up and walked over to the telly to change the channel but what is this the stone age? Anyway my friends antics were easily more exciting than Tony's drama or which one of Tom's family members\guardians was going to die this week.Jack, in a rare display of good judgement, was having none of it. Rather than going to investigate what my friend was trying show him he stayed well back and merely watched. The flatmate and I called out helpful suggestions such as trying to lure him with his favourite toy (a sock, any sock) or his favourite food (also a sock) when my friend's flatmate had the inspired idea "Maybe Jack would go into the box if you were in the box." Displaying suicidal levels of trust and naivety my friend thought this was an excellent suggestion.He immediately crawled head first into the box at which point, with unspoken agreement, me and his flatmate leapt up and lifted the box to an upright position. Avoiding the flailing legs of my friend we shuffled the box into a corner then sat back to see what would happen. After about 20 minutes of huffing, swearing and struggling he got himself upright and his head rose triumphantly from box. His triumph was short lived however when he realised the box was far too tall to simply climb out of, even for someone as tall as that lanky git.This is when the full genius of our plan became apparent. His only way out of the box was by tipping it over, it's that not easy to tip over a box that you're standing in it's like trying to push a car from the inside. You need to get a kind of rocking motion going, which can be tough when two diabolical geniuses have pushed you into a corner and you now have walls on two sides and a couch on the third. Even if he could tip it he was left with only one direction to fall, which was exactly where Jack had decided to curl up and go to sleep. Faced with the choice of staying in the box or crushing the dog to escape (an act than would have earned him an instant albeit painful death from his girlfriend) he wisely chose to stay put.His loud sweary tirades at how much he hated us, and how dire the retribution would be were very amusing though somewhat hurtful, especially after I kindly made him a cup of tea and thoughtfully placed it just out of reach. It was at this point his girlfriend arrived home from work and, upon hearing his pleas for help, completely ignored them and laughed hysterically before settling down to watch the telly.It was some time later that the three of us were roused from our televisual stupor by a loud thump. Jack, having woken from his slumber, had apparently wandered off in search of more socks to eat and my friend had seized his chance. Having tipped over the box he rose, free at last and spitting vile threats, bits of carpet and small clumps of dog hair he advanced on me and his flatmate when his girlfriend advised him to "stop being a whiney little girl and go make us a cup of tea!" and he slunk off defeated.All in all not a bad nights entertainment and definitely more exciting than Hollyoaks. Only three stars because, let's face it, a colonoscopy is more entertaining than Hollyoaks. I'm sure the chair was good as well, I never heard any complaints about it, and believe me I would have done, so it's probably worth a look.