There was something you couldn't quite put your finger on. Something vaguely unsettling, nothing more than the merest fleeting shadow of a raven's wing in the sunlight but there was briefly a chill.
But looking back at the photograph with hindsight we could see that the Fiat Uno was already stalking Diana. What had stirred the deep, twisted psyche of the Italian runaround? After painstaking sifting of the evidence and exacting forensic research we can determine that it all extended from a disputed parking space outside Harrods and Diana's unthinking, "I saw the space first. Now orf you go, you oiky Fiat; the Lidl's further down the road in oiksville." Long did the dismissive, braying voice burn into its malevolent mind until that perfect moment under Pont d'Alma, sensing Jean Paul was pissed as a newt, it swerved and the rest is a death cult.
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