The best excuse ever was from a van driver from Arlingsaas in the far north of Sweden for the most original successful excuse ever advanced for crashing a car. I couldn't see where I was going, officer,' he said.' The windscreen was completely fogged up by the heavy breathing of all those mice.'

The driver was a mouse-breeder on his way, one frosty morning, to a research laboratory with five cages of the little rodents when his van plunged off the road.

Other drivers' explanations are less convincing and serve only to amuse the police, who take the statements, and insurance assessors, who read the claim forms. Here are a few worth steering clear of. They all have one thing in common: it was the other driver's fault.

• The accident was due to the other fellow narrowly missing me.
• I knocked over the man; he admitted it was his fault
• as he had been knocked down before.
• I misjudged a lady crossing the road. I collided with a stationary tree.
• Coming back, I took the wrong turning and drove into a tree that was not there.
• I thought the side window was down, but it was up, as I found when I pushed my head through it.
• I was keeping two yards from each lamp post, which were in a straight line. Unfortunately there was a bend in the road, bringing a right-hand lamp post in line with the other and of course I landed in the river.
• To avoid a collision I ran into the other lorry.
• My accident was due to the road bending.
• Whilst waiting at traffic lights, I was rammed by the stationary car behind me.
• I was having a dispute with my wife. She pulled my hair, causing me to turn into a lamp standard.
• The other man turned into a coal sack.
• Coming home, I drove into the wrong house and collided with a tree I haven't got.
• A pedestrian hit me and went under my car.
• I leaned forward to swat a fly on the windscreen and hit the car in front.

In my limited experience of crashing cars, I have found that just two words work an absolute treat:

'Bloody dogs!' Since there was no dog, this inevitably provokes the question from eye-witnesses, 'What dog?' to which you reply: 'The bloody great Alsatian that ran straight out in front of me. I'm not surprised you didn't see it. I hardly saw it myself, it was going so damned fast.'

Within five minutes, providing you give a good performance and spend some time on your knees searching for dog hairs in your front bumper, you will have three eye-witnesses who will swear they saw you swerve or brake to avoid a dog, and one of them will even know whose dog it was. The dog, fortunately, won't be able to deny it. Meanwhile you can point to the crumpled wreck of your car, presenting yourself as the great animal lover who occasioned this expensive damage rather than see a stray die beneath your wheels or be maimed for life.

The circumstances of some crashes do not lend themselves to the dashing Alsatian excuse. On these occasions you must place the blame jointly on the designer of your vehicle and the manufacturers of your shoes. Together they loused it up because your right foot became jammed between the accelerator and the brake.

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