The night before the Part 3 Standards check

It was the night before the Part 3 Standards Check, and Peter, a PDI (Potential Driving Instructor), lay in bed, the weight of his final attempt pressing on him like a snowdrift on a sagging roof. He tossed, he turned, and finally drifted off into a restless sleep, only to find himself in the most bizarre driving scenario of his life.

Peter’s dream began when he pulled up outside his pupil Charlie’s house. Charlie, who was known for being “eccentric” at the best of times, stepped out the door wearing a full elf costume—complete with jingly shoes and a hat that had a bell so loud it could wake the dead. To top it off, Charlie was munching on a mince pie, crumbs cascading onto the green felt of his tunic.

“Morning, Pete! Merry Christmas! Got any brandy for the mince pie?” Charlie joked, sliding into the passenger seat and scattering tinsel everywhere.

Peter blinked. “Charlie, you… You can’t wear that to the test centre.”

“Why not? It’s festive,” Charlie said, jingling his hat bell for emphasis. Peter’s protests were drowned out by a loud crunch as Charlie took another bite of his pie.

On the way to the test centre, things only got stranger. The roads were littered with brightly wrapped presents, forcing Peter to swerve and weave like a stunt driver in a Christmas action movie.

“Why are there so many hazards?” Peter muttered.

“Maybe Santa’s gone for a minimalist delivery system this year,” Charlie suggested, throwing another mince pie into his mouth.

As they approached a zebra crossing, Peter slammed on the brakes. A snowman—complete with carrot nose and coal buttons—was waiting patiently to cross. Peter could have sworn it tipped its top hat in thanks as it waddled to the other side.

“Did you see that?” Peter asked.

“See what? You okay, Pete? Charlie replied innocently.

Just before they turned into the test centre, a low-flying sleigh zipped past them. Santa Claus himself leaned out and shouted, “Get a move on! Some of us have work to do!”

By the time they reached the car park, Peter’s nerves were frayed. Inside the waiting room, Christmas music blared at an almost unbearable volume. Just as Peter began to wonder how much worse it could get, the examiner emerged… dressed as the Grinch.

“Peter, is it?” the examiner growled, his green face twisting into a smirk. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

The test started reasonably well—until the roundabout incident. As they approached, the examiner casually reached into a bag and pulled out a box of mince pies.

“Mince pie, Peter? Charlie?” he asked just as Charlie hesitated on the roundabout, nearly colliding with a festive lorry carrying “Santa’s Grotto” supplies. Peter instinctively grabbed the wheel, narrowly avoiding disaster.

“Safety-critical incident,” Peter muttered through gritted teeth, pulling over to debrief Charlie. But before he could start, a group of carol singers surrounded the car, their cheerful rendition of “Deck the Halls” drowning him out.

“Go away!” Peter shouted, waving his hands. The examiner chuckled, his Grinchy grin widening.

“Bah, humbug! You’re such a Scrooge, Peter,” he teased, handing out mince pies to the carolers through the window.

Eventually, they made it back to the test centre. But as Charlie attempted to park, he misjudged the space and clipped a massive Christmas tree. The fairy on top went flying, landing in the snow with a faint “pfft.” The lights on the tree fizzled and died, plunging the car park into semi-darkness.

Peter buried his face in his hands. “That’s it. I’m done for.”

The examiner’s face was unreadable as he began to deliver his verdict. But just as he opened his mouth, a cacophony of Christmas bells erupted, echoing through the air.

Peter jolted awake in his bed, drenched in sweat. The sound of his phone alarm—set to “Jingle Bells”—rang out.

It had all been a dream.

Relieved but slightly shaken, Peter got up, determined to ace his real Standards Check. And as he stepped outside, he made a mental note: no mince pies in the car… and absolutely no elves.