You're right to be careful, Eliza.

About a year ago, I witnessed a road rage incident in which a pair of lads walking home from work were attacked by the driver of a bright red sports car. He had blocked the pedestrian crossing, the better to make his right turn as speedy as possible, and one of the young fellas -- the tall, skinny one with the unicycle -- knocked gently on the offending fender as he walked around the nose of the car. The driver leapt out, grabbed the lad, and punched him in the face, yelling, "I'll f***ing kill you!"

It happened at the foot of my street, less than 100 metres from my front door, just as I stepped out on my way to a meeting. I took the lads to our house, gave them tea and called the cops, who came and took statements -- including mine.

Months later, I was summoned to the cop shop for a "photo line-up". For this procedure, a meticulously conducted double-blind affair, I was shown photographs of 12 amazingly similar men. Alas, I was no help, having seen the assailant only from the side, in low light and at a distance of about 50 metres.