It happens – I can’t always be at my desk.

In this case my absense was rather longer than anticipated due to some ghastly cloud mushrooming out of Iceland. I thought they’d given up that game but the dark evenings of winter have their toll, I suppose.

For all those of you who missed me, don’t think I’ve been swanning around the tropics on some holiday extravaganza. I haven’t.

I’ve been travelling for a very serious purpose as you’ll see. It has come to my attention that there is a source of rather cheap registration numbers somewhere in the world. The high street shops have a similar difficulty with cheap imports from the Far East – cheap toys, cheap clothes which disintegrate on impact. So why should I be surprised if someone is pumping out shoddy numbers at bargain prices.

So, no surprise then but, naturally, as a purveyor of antique registrations I’m concerned that whoever is flooding my market is paying decent wages. Some of these things are so cheap you can’t help wondering if some poor kid in a back slum is churning them out instead of glueing his eyes to a computer screen like the lucky kids of the developed nations. 

There seems to be no end to these so-called plates. Two weeks in the Caribbean and I am none the wiser as to the source. Still, I have my scouts and expect to get information on this sordid trade very shortly.

It’s just been brought to my attention by the health and safety officer that my comments could be construed as a pop at registrations from Northern Ireland. Apparently my longevity and marital prospects would be endangered by such rash words. Let me just say that some of my best friends have NI plates; I have some for sale myself and very proud of them I am too.

Call me a purist but it’s all these Fs and Ps cluttering up my registration that I can’t stand.

‘Will you shut up Reg. We sell those too.’

‘Do we?’

‘Yep, cheap as chips. Check out the website.’

‘Right.’

By the way, thought it would be a good moment to reveal my bonus this year. I hope you take it in the spirit of openess and generosity with which it was given to me.

                                          £00.00

Yours,

Reg Chatt

Anyone else feeling a tiny bit of irritation towards the banks? Or is it just me?

If I was as good at screwing on number plates as they are at screwing me I would make a fortune.

All I wanted was my current account to be able to talk to my savings account. In other words when the former was low it could pull from the latter and prevent a nasty over drawn situation.  Apparently, that’s not possible without my personal intervention. You know the rest. Letters from the bank at £25 a shot, statements in red and interest charged. Nice one.

Still, mustn’t witter on about it. Went to a great party the other week in my old stomping ground. Of course, when you meet people you don’t know, conversation inevitably turns to how you earn your crust. I’ve been called many things in my time but one of the things I call myself is Autonumerologist. Try it after a few bevvies. So, I introduced myself as such and was flattered that people knew my name.

Do you know, people love to chat about numbers? Here are some of my favourite number questions : -

Q) What’s the priciest number you’ve ever sold?

A) I never divulge that one but I have been offered quite a few camels for  A1 RAB.

Q) Any rude numbers in stock?

A) Certainly not. However, the price of B16 DYC has dropped markedly.

Q) Do you have any famous customers?

A) More than I can cope with. Snowy the dog is still my favourite. Not heard of him ? Where have you been?

Q) What do you have on your own car, Reg?

A) Today, my dear public, I am sporting 3 NMB. I don’t have my own number; they’re all for sale and don’t usually stay long enough for me to get attached to them. This was was bought by Centralreg because…well, why not?

Q) Can I transfer a number from my old tractor that’s been languishing in the barn since the last queen died?

A) Now – take that straw bale out of your ears – Noooo, you can’t and if I’m asked that one more time…I’ll…

These question and answer sessions, always make me grateful that I’m not a doctor.

Anyway…good party, great dancing…really, I did, and not much of a hangover.

Yours,

Reg Chatt

News from the car industry always inspires me. Take this Toyota recall – the second one in as many weeks.  Now there appears to be problems with the software operating the braking system and it begs the question whether cars are too complicated these days. I remember my first car ( let the violins roll, it was a Ford Cortina Mk 1 Estate) having a similar problem with braking as I hurtled downhill at 40 mph and my foot went through the floor.

Did I mention it was a rust bucket? Simple to fix though and the back up braking system (the handbrake) worked a treat.

But enough about me and my carefree days.

Number plates – hardly ever have to recall those fellas unless you have dealings with a dyslexic supplier who’s got his p’s mixed up with his d’s. Not me, I hardly ever get muddled. But I know it’s happened to a good friend of mine. This is why I teach the staff to use the phoenetic alphabet; it saves a lot of confusion.

By the way. Some clever spark has told me that number plates no longer need to be screwed on. You can get these high powered sticky pads that do the job. So it looks like I’m out of a job as a result.

Bet there has to be a recall of those ones !

Yours,

Reg Chatt

Apparently, I’m clocking up too many miles. I can’t help it; I love motoring and I’m the proud owner of a fabulous motor car with a rather stunning registration number. They’re worth looking at, aren’t they?

It’s these green issues getting in the way. We’re trying to reduce the old carbon footprint and the boss has has declared a moritorium, something like that, on long-distance, futile journeys. ‘Nothing further than 100 miles Reg,’ he mumbled over my expenses claim last week.

‘But surely,’ I responded valiantly, ’surely people who buy one of our exceedingly rare plates expect a bit of service. You don’t expect them to do it themselves do you?’

‘Yep.’

I felt like a craftsman of antique furniture being told to create a flat pack. ‘But I’ve got this amazing electric screwdriver, I’m an expert, they won’t do it properly. Boss, the plates will fall off if you let them do it themselves.’

‘Sit down, Reg,’ he said, ignoring the no-smoking policy and lighting a fat cigar. ‘People can put the plates on for themselves…or get a local garage to do it for them.’

‘Really? Sounds shabby to me,’ I protested, batting the smoke from my face but smiling in case he spotted my bill for entertaining.

‘We’ve all got to do our bit. Don’t forget Copenhagen,’ he said.

‘What about Snowy?’

It was a last-ditch attempt to maintain my old lifestyle. I’ve always been a Cavalier of the road; not one of these Roundheads of reason.

‘Who the heck is Snowy?’ he asked.

‘The dog, our investor.’

The light dawned on his wise face and his pen moved neatly over the approved box on my ex’s claim.

Other companies have celebrities, well we do too but we find them too boring to mention, but the customer we are most fond of is Snowy. He invests in numbers. How neat is that? And he can’t put on his own number plates – something about claws getting in the way.

So my life on the road is saved. A decent service is maintained and my screwdriver is willing and able.

Yours,

Reg Chatt

Almost Unwell

It may have seemed like a Jeffrey Bernard moment. Oh, you know Jeffrey, the famous writer, who is sadly no longer with us, who had a very close relationship with alcohol. They made a play about him called Jeffrey Bernard is Unwell – so called because that was the excuse when his column was under the table rather than on the page.

I have returned to this august column after an absense of some weeks because I have heard it said that I could be unwell in a rather JB manner. This is not so. Christmas has seen me busy in a very sober fashion. We’ve all had a marvellous time here at Central Registrations but we’ve kept our feet firmly on the table. Or should that be on the ground? Somewhere sensible at any rate.

What a busy time on the sales front. And the purchasing department has had a record breaking bonanza. New plates to look out for are A1 HRH and A1RAB.

For some reason my thoughts have been with our politicians in the last few weeks. Probably due to the inordinate amount of bad publicity they have cooked up for themselves with their creative expenses claims. What puzzles me is why they haven’t bought anything sensible with their fraudulent money from the tax payer. I mean, who needs a duck house? If only some of them had invested in a personalised registration number, they could have made a tidy profit by the time they were caught out, paid the money back and kept the extra without the dear-old tax payer noticing.

I’ve checked our archives and can honestly say that MPs are absent from our list of clients. Which just shows how inept some people can be, doesn’t it?

Yours…full of good health,

Reg Chatt

NEW IN

Take a look at this lovely plate !

10 DMB

It’s an original number; a glorious antique. Issued in 1958 by Cheshire Council Council which makes it almost as old as me.

It’s new in stock and is incredibly rare. So much so that I’m thinking of keeping the darn thing. Well, I know. I  say that every time and the sales people are getting fed up with me. Therefore, I’m sad to say, it’s for sale. It can be yours if you insist. Special discount if you mention my name. Even more if you get the spelling right.

Yours,

Reg Chatt

It tells you something, doesn’t it? The government’s scrappage scheme.

Millions being pumped in to support the car industry at a time of crisis. More is being devoted to the banking system, I know, but the car industry is so central to our economy that each and every one of us is more than happy to fund a little helping hand. May be.

But the idea of the scrappage scheme got me thinking. No, no…please hear me out…it’s a habit of mine. As I say, it got me thinking about the attraction of the scheme. I’ll buy your new car if you give me a heap of money for this heap of junk. That’s it essentially.

We’ve been doing it for years in the number plate business. Except we don’t scrap the registrations we take in part exchange. We sell them. Because the old numbers we take in part exchange never grow old or tired. They may have done countless miles but they retain their value whereas the beast on four wheels slides down a dwindling slope of lost money.

So, there you have it. What a investment number plates are. You get to wear them but they never need dry cleaning. You even get to keep them if they’re stolen ! You can take them with you wherever you go, enjoy them for years and see your investment rise in spite of the depreciation that hits the car they’re on.

Yours,

Reg Chatt

How many ? I hear you ask.  And you can be forgiven for that touch of surprise. It surprised  me even though I’ve been at  the coal face, as they say.

The figures were released this week revealing how many cherished numbers have been sold this year. It’s about a third of a million, apparently. People keep asking me – How do you do it, Reg?

It hasn’t been easy but with a dedicated team behind me, zero holidays abroad (I’m watching my carbon footprint, naturally) and a zealous flouting of EU regulations about the number of hours I work, it has been possible.

What can I say? I’m a good salesman.  For those of you who want to keep on buying there’s a fantastic special offer this week.

Mention my name to the sales team for a discount on any of our stock numbers. And don’t tell the opposition the secrets of my success. Some of them can’t be horribly competitive.

Yours,

Reg Chatt

I’ve been visiting the far-flung corners of the registration plate empire. Naples.

Where else in the world can you see a Vespa scooter given its proper place in society. Weaving in and out of traffic, hurtling at 40 mph, horn blaring and what I can only describe as a fully loaded vehicle. Mum, dad and two kids – all crammed onto the machine, beautifully balanced. Amazing.

What a place! Pedestrians are rightly shunned, run over probably if they’re not quick. Zebra crossings are ignored, as are no entry signs, red lights and anything resembling a rule. No crash elmets either. Number plates, I hear you ask? Not much sign of them. The Italians have such style, such a love of appearances, that it’s hard to credit.

As your cultural attache, I did my best to introduce the concept of a well-dressed vehicle complete with registration number. Talks are continuing. I’ll keep you informed.

Yours

Reg Chatt

SPECIAL OFFERS FROM CENTRAL REGISTRATIONS

GOODWOOD REVIVED

You may remember that I’m a little image conscious. Not as bad as the guy in the Fast Show. Mr Shed.

But Friday sees my appearance at the Goodwood Revival.  Taking my lovely Jaguar for an outing – such a period piece, complete with fabulous registration number too.  But what to wear? You see, the Revival is such a motoring event. Nostalgic, fun, everyone dressing up in period costume from the 1940s.  But here I am discussing what to wear when I should be talking about cherished numbers.

‘Reg,’ shouted the boss, this morning. ‘The idea of the blog is to exercise your creative talents on the human desire for motoring adornment…NOT your boring obsession with your own sodding appearance.’

I loved the way he said creative talent. So much so, that I couldn’t take offence at the sharp way he chastised me in front of the entire staff.

Chastened, that’s me. And so I feel it’s incumbent upon to mention my special promotion this month. ALL stock numbers owned by Central Registrations are subject to a minimum 10 % discount. You just have to mention my name. Reg Chatt. All the staff know me. Just mention my name when you email sales@centralreg.co.uk for a stock list. Then choose away. I know I would. Appearances !  So important, you know.

Yours…

Reg Chatt