Reminds me of this pearoast:
I was walking up Southover Street, one of the steepest hills in Brighton, a town known for steep hills. Just I was approaching base camp (otherwise known as The Greys), I noticed two blokes attempting to push a car up the hill. I took pity on them, and offered to lend my not inconsiderable bulk to the task.

Eventually, after much puffing, blowing, swearing and near-hernias, we got the car up far enough to get round the corner to a side street, and thankfully I left them to it. As I continued up, I glanced back one last time - and at that point noticed their granny, calmly doing her knitting in the passenger seat.

Bint.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Mon 13 May 2013, 15:42, 1 reply)

To be fair though, they had to put her somewhere.
They wander off. If they'd left her on a bench she could have scarpered while they were shoving the car up the hill. Anything could happen.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Thu 16 May 2013, 9:01, closed)