The smashing of the van

Emissions/Kilian Doyle: Here's a true story

Emissions/Kilian Doyle: Here's a true story. It's about a man, who shall remain nameless but is most definitely real, who had a rather traumatic experience some years ago with which many readers may identify. The subsequent impact on his insurance costs will surely raise a few hackles.

Our hero pulled up at a traffic light one day. In front of him was a van. Just a plain, ordinary van going about its business on an unremarkable day, he reckoned, barely giving it a second thought.

Lights went green, van took off, so did he. But did van remain in a forward motion?

Unfortunately not. As the van screeched to a halt, our motorist tried valiantly to stop, failed, and trundled ignominiously into the back of the immovable van.

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He jumped out, inspected the damage, which was, to his eyes, minimal. Relieved, he went round to inquire after the health of the driver of the aforementioned van. Then the shock hit him.

For pouring out of said vehicle were not one person, or two, nor even three, but eight souls, all clutching various parts of their anatomy and squealing in pain.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, voices were raised, numbers were exchanged, the usual. Next morning, our pal, sniffing something fishy, decides to go into the local Garda station to voice his suspicions.

On arrival, he informs the desk sergeant as to the reason for his visit. "I've something you should probably see before making a statement, sir," says the sergeant, directing our friend to look through a small hatch into an adjacent interview room. The occupants? The same eight souls, dressed to a man (and woman) in matching neck braces. The result? Out of court settlement, eight braces no doubt recycled for further use and our hero's insurance premium soaring into the stratosphere.

Sound familiar to anyone? Any motorists out there who've fallen victim to similar insurance scams? This is, as the more astute of you will deduce, an exceedingly sarcastically-toned rhetorical question.

A quick scan of the newspapers reveals countless examples of claims that are patently false, often thrown out, but all leading to one thing - higher insurance costs for the honest.

A lawyer friend of mine, who earns his daily crust from such cases, admitted to me recently that he is frequently ashamed of representing his "clients".

He cited a chancer who wanted €50,000 for falling out of a taxi. "Do you throw this guy out on his ear or do you take the easy commission?" he asked, face wracked with guilt.

"That's your fault for going over to the Dark Side in the first place," said I, sympathetically. But I could see his point. If he didn't take the case, the nearest Lionel Hutz (look it up, non-Simpsons fans) would be only too happy to.

Figures unearthed by The Irish Times show lawyers earned around €250 million for acting in motor-related compensation claims last year, while the Irish Insurance Federation "conservatively" estimate that fraudsters cost insurers around €65 million in 2001.

It's a healthy market for some. But who ultimately pays all this filthy lucre? Us, the average Joe and Jane Soaps whose premiums are rising inexorably, like Bertie's dissatisfaction ratings.

But we were glad to read recently of a chap whose claim for damages against a bus company was dismissed. The court was shown a video of this joker opening the rear window of the bus and deliberately jumping.

But is his humiliation enough? Of course not. He should have been locked up in prison after every inmate on his wing has attended a full-screen showing of his finest moment.

I'm happy to hear our Minister for Justice is planning to tighten up the laws on fraudulent claims. But will he come through with it? I'm not holding my breath. Anyway, I'm off to jump in front of a ministerial Merc. Times are hard, sure you know yourself.