A company calling itself HPI (which stands for Hire Purchase Information, High Pressure Injection, History of Present Illness, or possibly House Price Index – we’re honestly none too sure which it is, so, basically take your pick) has launched an exciting initiative called CrotchWatch.

This aims to reunite lost cars with finance and leasing companies with whom they’ve lost track after falling in with low-lifes, criminals, and persons, generally, with a seeming aversion to personal motor insurance.

It works like this: cars bought on finance get seized by the cops because they are uninsured (the cars, not the cops, clearly). Cops take cars off to scrapyard to be (what else) scrapped. Cars wonder where it all went wrong as they gloomily contemplate their imminent destruction by the terrible jaws, claws, and spiky roller things of High Pressure Immolation machinery.

But then – for the lucky few, at least, who CrotchWatch reach in time – despair turns to elation as the grateful vehicles are plucked from death row and joyfully reunited with the finance and leasing houses who have a financial stake in them.

The fact that they may now be pimped out to paying customers or sold on to ruthless vehicle traffickers will seem a price well worth paying to cars freshly pulled back from the very brink of untimely oblivion.

HPI CrotchWatch claims to have rescued more than £67m of uninsured vehicles in 2015, an achievement that is all the more remarkable when you consider that they did it all from underneath an umbrella that they share with the Finance and Leasing Association’s Vehicle Recovery Scheme (FLAVRS) and the National Police Chef’s Council (or ’N-Pack’ as it’s known).

What a wonderful initiative! Cars being crushed just for being uninsured always seemed a tad draconian to Bankstone News’ tender sensibilities, and not especially ‘green’ either, if it comes to that. So the more cars CrotchWatch can reunite with the finance houses who love them, the better, we say.

So CrotchWatch really is good news for all concerned. All, that is, except the bloke who operates the crusher, who must be getting pretty darned frustrated by now, and may soon have to hunt around for other things to crush.


Too late for this little guy, sadly.


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