“…The Sat-Nav said we should have gone right back there.”
“I know.  Unfortunately our GPS is so old it was unaware that there is no longer a road to turn onto.  It’s all changed.  I’m following the signs.”
“Shame you can’t do that in bed!”
“Oh, not that again.  Look, I told you, I was distracted.  I had something in my ear.”
“You very nearly weren’t the only one!”
“I apologised at the time.”
“You know the kind of damage something the size of a cotton-bud being thrust into the ear can do don’t you…  Remind me, why are we going to Hemel Hempstead?”
“To see my aunty.”
“Yes, you said that, so remind me again, why are we going to Hemel Hempstead?”
“Look, I know she’s not your favourite relative, but we’re all she’s got.”
“She calls you Kevin.  She doesn’t even know who you are.”
“She calls you Morticia, so she remembers you alright.”
“She’s not even your real aunty.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well she’s not actually related to you at all is she?  She doesn’t share your DNA.”
“I think we all share some DNA, don’t we?  Except maybe for you…”
“How did you even meet her in the first place?”
“She used to look after us when we were kids.”
“Like babysitting?”
“I suppose so, yes.”
“So she’s your ‘aunty’ on account of babysitting you?”
“She was a family friend.”
“…And was she always warty?”
“She’s not warty.”
“She’s a witch: of course she’s warty.”
“She’s my aunty, she’s old and it’s only for a couple of hours.  Just try to be nice can’t you?”
“I’m always nice.  Ask anyone… except for your family, of course – they all hate me.”
“They don’t hate you… well, ok they do, but you give them plenty of reasons don’t you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You put superglue in Derek’s hairpiece.”
“Oh yes, I forgot about that.  That was funny!”
“Ok, it was quite amusing, yes, but I don’t think he’s ever forgiven you.  He had to wear a woolly hat for weeks.”
“He called me a trollop.”
“He did not!”
“Well, he thought it.”
“We all think it.”
“You think that I’m a floozy?  Why?  Do you think that makes you Richard Gere?”
“I think it makes me nervous.  I never know what you’re going to say.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“It would be fine if you weren’t quite so aggressive.”
“I am not aggressive!”
“The kids are all scared of you.”
“I’m a teacher.  The kids are meant to be scared of me.”
“I meant Derek’s kids.”
“Your brother’s kids are wimps.  What kind of kids cry when you tell them a bed-time story?”
“You told them the Bogeyman was real and living under their beds.  You told them he had a chainsaw.”
“And they believed me!”
“Ellie is only four.  She started wetting the bed again.  Now she cries if they even mention your name.”
“…I’ll take her some sweets next time we go.”
“Derek’s kids are not allowed sweets, you know that.”
“Oh yes, what is it now, something to do with refined sugars and pig’s knuckles isn’t it?  Well, they’re better than the lemon your brother’s wife seems to be permanently sucking.  Her face is so pinched that not even Botox can save it.”
“She doesn’t have Botox… Does she?”
“Have you ever seen her smile?”
“Not when you’re around, no.”
“She can’t smile.  Her face would explode… Shouldn’t you have gone left there?”
“Should I?  Oh bugger.  What does the Sat-Nav say?”
“It says that you’re in the middle of a potato field and that it’s November 2015.  We really need a new car.”
“Can you get Google Maps on your phone?”
“Ok.  If you promise to listen to my instructions.”
“As long as you don’t take us straight home like you did last time.”
“Maybe I’ll just take us straight to the car showroom.  Maybe we can buy a car with a Sat-Nav that doesn’t list Stonehenge under new buildings.”
“I like this car.”
“Of course you do.  It’s old and tatty – like your underwear.”
“It gets us from A to B.”
I know, but it needs a rest before C.  It’s prehistoric.  It doesn’t have cameras.  It doesn’t even park itself.”
“It doesn’t need to: I do it.”
“I bet you can program a new one to do it within walking distance of the supermarket.”
“Where it will get bashed with doors and trolleys.  Look at this car, the bodywork is immaculate.  Not a bump or a chip anywhere.  Cosmetically, it is as good as new.”
“Internally it’s senile.  It doesn’t know whether it’s coming or going.”
“Only when you’re navigating.”
“And it’s SO slow.  I bet it’s never been over seventy miles an hour.”
“I think you’ll find that that is as fast as it is allowed to go.”
“What do you mean?”
“The National Speed Limit is 70 MPH.”
“And who sticks to that?”
“People who don’t want to lose their licence…
“If you’re talking about me, I’ve driven this car a million times and I’ve never once gone over 70MPH – although God knows I’ve tried – and I’ve never lost my licence.”
“And how many Speed Awareness Courses have you done?”
“Only one.”
“Oh yes, I forgot, you get points on your licence after that, don’t you?  How many have you got?”
“Everybody speeds from time to time.”
“I don’t.”
“I know, it is so nerve-racking being a passenger when you’re driving.”
“What do you mean?  I’m really careful.  I’ve never even had a single accident.”
“I know.  But when we’re on a long journey I have to keep checking that you’re still alive… I have to keep checking that I’m still alive.”
“You really do need to be more patient.”
“Patient?”
“Yes, you don’t need to do everything in such a rush, you know?”
“Really?  Well thank you for that information Mr Cotton-Bud dick?”
“Oh, here we go again.”
“…And you’ve just missed your turning…”

This is the fourth outing for this un-named couple.  Their previous conversations are:
Five Minutes in the Car
Five More Minutes in the Car
Another Five Minutes in the Car