# data.attributes.title
Opinion: improve British driving standards with David Attenborough

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Opinion: improve British driving standards with David Attenborough | Top Gear

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
If in doubt, just ask yourself: What Would Attenborough Think?

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Opinion: improve British driving standards with David Attenborough

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
If in doubt, just ask yourself: What Would Attenborough Think?

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
If in doubt, just ask yourself: What Would Attenborough Think?

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Opinion: improve British driving standards with David Attenborough

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Opinion: improve British driving standards with David Attenborough

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Opinion: improve British driving standards with David Attenborough

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
If in doubt, just ask yourself: What Would Attenborough Think?

# data.attributes.body.value
Earlier this year, a sweeping set of changes to Britain’s Highway Code established an official ‘hierarchy’ of road users, from most vulnerable to least. At the top of the tree, pedestrians receive the greatest protection, then cyclists, horse riders, cars, and, at the very bottom, the BMW X7. In short, if it’s squishier than you, give it a wide berth.

The changes were slammed in some quarters as an assault on the motor car, with some papers dubbing them “a war on motorists” and “a recipe for road rage”. I’m struggling to get riled up by this one. I have, for a while now, attempted to drive by what I call the Don’t Be A Pillock principle. Basically, if what you’re doing behind the wheel might make an onlooker think, yep, whoever’s driving that car, bit of a pillock: stop doing it.

I sometimes fall short of this goal. I have, at times, unquestionably engaged in pillocky driving. But I’m giving it my best shot. Because – wishy washy liberal opinion alert! – I do think it’s a sweet deal that, after passing a (let’s be honest) less than gruelling test at the age of 17, you’re then permitted to drive a motorcar of unlimited potency for the next half-century or so. Seems a fair trade-off that, in exchange, we’re expected to play nicely with other road users.

I fall short. I have at times unquestionably engaged in pillocky driving

However. I recently shared my Don’t Be A Pillock philosophy with a friend, who pointed out one flaw in its otherwise watertight logic: doesn’t it depend on the onlooker? One person’s ‘pillock’ is another’s ‘assertive driver’. I used to live on the same street as an elderly lady who would stand on her doorstep screaming “Boy racer!” at literally any vehicle travelling over 5mph. Including pushbikes. If she’s our arbiter, no one’s getting anywhere. What we need, then, is a hypothetical onlooker to pass judgement. Someone prudent yet realistic. A benevolent road god, if you will.

Thus it is my delight to introduce my new acronym to help us all drive a bit nicer. WWAT: What Would Attenborough Think?

So, whenever, wherever you’re driving, imagine you’ve got David Attenborough in the passenger seat. If he wouldn’t like what you’re doing, quit it. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting the big man, but we all know it: Attenborough will be happy for you to give it the berries on a sinuous-but-well-sighted moorland road (“The young driver,” he chuckles from the passenger seat, “seems to enjoy the thrust of the VTEC”). But he won’t be keen on you shoving your way out at a T-junction when a dad with a pram is waiting to cross (“Sorry Dave,” you whine. “Dentist appointment!” Attenborough tilts his head ruefully and says nothing).

As a nation, we all know, instinctively, whether our driving behaviour is likely to gain us the Attenborough ‘watching a baby giraffe take its first tottering steps’ smile or his ‘just caught you deforesting the Amazon’ frown. So, if you don’t have time to read the entire Highway Code, just consider: WWAT?

# data.attributes.body.processed
Earlier this year, a sweeping set of changes to Britain’s Highway Code established an official ‘hierarchy’ of road users, from most vulnerable to least. At the top of the tree, pedestrians receive the greatest protection, then cyclists, horse riders, cars, and, at the very bottom, the BMW X7. In short, if it’s squishier than you, give it a wide berth.

The changes were slammed in some quarters as an assault on the motor car, with some papers dubbing them “a war on motorists” and “a recipe for road rage”. I’m struggling to get riled up by this one. I have, for a while now, attempted to drive by what I call the Don’t Be A Pillock principle. Basically, if what you’re doing behind the wheel might make an onlooker think, yep, whoever’s driving that car, bit of a pillock: stop doing it.

I sometimes fall short of this goal. I have, at times, unquestionably engaged in pillocky driving. But I’m giving it my best shot. Because – wishy washy liberal opinion alert! – I do think it’s a sweet deal that, after passing a (let’s be honest) less than gruelling test at the age of 17, you’re then permitted to drive a motorcar of unlimited potency for the next half-century or so. Seems a fair trade-off that, in exchange, we’re expected to play nicely with other road users.

I fall short. I have at times unquestionably engaged in pillocky driving

However. I recently shared my Don’t Be A Pillock philosophy with a friend, who pointed out one flaw in its otherwise watertight logic: doesn’t it depend on the onlooker? One person’s ‘pillock’ is another’s ‘assertive driver’. I used to live on the same street as an elderly lady who would stand on her doorstep screaming “Boy racer!” at literally any vehicle travelling over 5mph. Including pushbikes. If she’s our arbiter, no one’s getting anywhere. What we need, then, is a hypothetical onlooker to pass judgement. Someone prudent yet realistic. A benevolent road god, if you will.

Thus it is my delight to introduce my new acronym to help us all drive a bit nicer. WWAT: What Would Attenborough Think?

So, whenever, wherever you’re driving, imagine you’ve got David Attenborough in the passenger seat. If he wouldn’t like what you’re doing, quit it. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting the big man, but we all know it: Attenborough will be happy for you to give it the berries on a sinuous-but-well-sighted moorland road (“The young driver,” he chuckles from the passenger seat, “seems to enjoy the thrust of the VTEC”). But he won’t be keen on you shoving your way out at a T-junction when a dad with a pram is waiting to cross (“Sorry Dave,” you whine. “Dentist appointment!” Attenborough tilts his head ruefully and says nothing).

As a nation, we all know, instinctively, whether our driving behaviour is likely to gain us the Attenborough ‘watching a baby giraffe take its first tottering steps’ smile or his ‘just caught you deforesting the Amazon’ frown. So, if you don’t have time to read the entire Highway Code, just consider: WWAT?

# data.attributes.field_standfirst
If in doubt, just ask yourself: What Would Attenborough Think?