Could be worse. My Dad was in advertising, and told me how he and a couple of workmates were sitting at a table at a roadside cafe in Soho frequented by people from his agency, when the peace was shattered by the approach of a thunderous rumble. Looking up the road, one of them suddenly said 'That's Dave isn't it?' - they all looked, and sure enough it was their creative director, on a massive gleaming new Harley Davidson. He pulled up slowly to the kerb and gave them all a triumphant grin, which turned swiftly to a look of panic as he realised he'd somehow got his trouser leg hooked onto some part of the bike. Sure enough, he ended up on his side on the pavement, wriggling like a bug. It took my dad and all his mates to get the thing off him.