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In a plot twist that could make you question whether reality is just a sitcom gone horribly wrong, a 91-year-old woman with dementia has been ruled unsuitable to operate a motor vehicle—like the universe was waiting for a fatal accident inquiry to figure that out. This latest episode of “Grandma on the Loose” opens with the tragic and absurd demise of three-year-old Xander Irvine, who unfortunately fouled out of life after being struck by Edith Duncan’s trusty Kia Picanto.

Picture it: Morningside Road, Edinburgh. The scene is set for chaos as Duncan, at the wheel, somehow transforms an ordinary evening drive into a scene reminiscent of a clumsy toddler’s go-karting experience. While attempting what one can only assume was her rendition of “turning the vehicle around,” she careened onto the pavement, taking a direct detour into a shop—because why not? Who needs insurance when you can create a spectacle?

Following the crash, the reports conveyed that dear Edith was suffering from frontotemporal dementia, that little perk of old age that seems to attract fewer warning flags than a May Day parade. Despite her medical notes being devoid of these flags, it appears her driving ability went the way of her short-term memory. And just like that, the authorities come to the shocking conclusion: maybe letting an elderly woman who can’t remember where she left her glasses drive around town wasn’t the best idea.

She had bravely cancelled her insurance, probably with the thought that saving a few quid was worth the risk of turning her car into a lethal weapon. Ah, the irony! The only thing that eclipsed this tragicomic scenario was her declaration that “her foot must have slipped on the accelerator.” Witnesses, however, claimed her car could only be convinced to stop after having a very intimate encounter with a brick wall. Perhaps it’s time to rewrite the law of cause and effect?

And here comes the pièce de résistance: a sheriff who pointed out that everyone over the age of 70 is, quite literally, self-certifying their fitness to drive as if they were declaring themselves fit for the Olympic Games. “Sure, I can drive. Didn’t I just pass my test back when Elvis was still shaking his hips?” Sheriff Ross concluded that the current processes were as flawed as a discount trampoline. This self-certification dynamic fails to see that, in the twilight years, one’s cognitive functions can slip just as quickly as one’s memory of where they parked their vehicle.

So, what’s next? Sheriff Ross suggests a revamp—because clearly the current regime is just running a game of chance with human lives. Though, let’s be real, implementing changes through the UK government is like trying to convince a cat to take a bath: a feat doomed to fail before it even starts.

To summarize: a tragic loss, a satirical accident, and a bureaucracy that continues to run on the fumes of irony. It’s just another day in this wonderfully absurd theatre we call society.

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