Few things infuriate me more than irresponsible driving. A car, in the hands of an idiot, is more deadly a weapon than a pistol in the same idiot’s hands. While a gun is only capable of maiming or killing people one bullet at a time, a single act of carelessness or stupidity behind the wheel can take out — as Thomas Towle tragically discovered — several people in one fell swoop.

As a daily tram user, I witness one particularly dangerous act of stupidity on a depressingly regular basis: drivers failing to observe the law that they must not pass the rear of a stopped tram, thereby allowing passengers to disembark safely.

In high school, a mate’s mother was killed in such an incident, so I’m especially sensitive about this all-too-common traffic violation. So are tram drivers, but the most severe censure they’re able to give motorists who zoom past their stopped trams is the embarrassingly impotent bell treatment: take that (ding!) and that (ding!) and THAT (dingding!) you naughty man or woman!

Of course, in most cases the drivers are so far beyond the tram by this time that they won’t even hear the bell, let alone realise how close they’ve come to injuring or killing someone. That is, until today.

This morning, at a very busy intersection, I was the last passenger disembarking from my tram. As I stepped down onto the road, I noticed an approaching taxi that didn’t look like it was going to stop. It wasn’t moving very quickly — the traffic light ahead was red — but it showed no intention of slowing down until it reached the stop line.

I held out my hand to indicate that the driver should stop, but he completely ignored me and kept driving. In a remarkable stroke of luck, the planets aligned and the timing was perfect for me to indulge my righteous indignation — so as the taxi drove between me and the tram, I sunk my knee into its back door. Really fucking hard.

It produced what I can only assume was the most satisfying crunching sound since George W Bush fell off his Segway.