Crashes cause more crashes, or so they say, because they generally can't find anything bet or cleverer or more useful to say, apart from "Oh, are you alright" when you cough and splutter like a purple peanut, and then they wail like the pain of a very big cat when they get their indigestion from babbling so much. The par cark was a grail of the smashingness, being generally a place where people liked to crash their cars because they got given the CCTV footage afterwards so they could watch it back in slow motion from every conceivable angle (bar one, which we won't mention). However, this gave Bob a bit of the old indigestion, and so he said "Yes, this pain of gut, it is quite a bit of painfulness, why don't I get it out of my gut and onto the floor where I can peck at it?" Or something. And then, because Bob's short term memory is not as great as his foot, he pecked at his gut, because he forgot to do the first bit of stuff that he promised so righteously to himself to do cleverly so. Anyway, this kind of hurt a bit more, but it also did some quite appalling structural damage to the most basicest foundations of the fleshiness of the ground in which the foundations were based, basically meaning COLLAPSE!!!one!1! and so it hurt a bit more then he died. Again. The ram next door to him then chewed on the CCTV footage and turned it into a bit of lovely fertiliser for the grass behind him, so he did. And flowers.