It’s that time of the week again, where we round up all the stupid number plates we’ve seen out and about and chuckle at the owners’ pathetic narcissism sated only by the purchase of some letters and numbers on their car.

First up, one I spotted and confirms my theory that it’s all a bit “mid-2000s” here in Australia. .

At least there wasn’t an @ symbol in the mix.

Cyclist seems to think this one will win;

Close, but no cigar.

He had another try with this one;

Which I like to think has been transferred from a surfer’s Beetle and now he drives his wanky family Holden Caulfield dreaming of when he had hair and spare time to surf.

Gavin came in with some late entries, this one particularly tickled my fancy;

Hopefully it isn’t owned by my psycho ex, the one who cried when she picked up the wrong jeans when getting out of bed and realised her arse was bigger than mine. She lives in Curl Curl now, so you’ve been warned, chaps.

This was excellent too;

But this week we have a three way tie;

The first is from Gavin;

I wonder if the owner performs auto-erotic acts with the seatbelt around his neck?

The second joint winner is a very late entry from Cyclist (minutes to spare!);

Maybe the owner gets motion sickness?

And the third joint winner is from Sinead and even comes with a poem

The thunder god went for a ride
Upon his favourite filly.
“I’m Thor!” he cried,
And his horse replied,
“You forgot your thaddle, thilly.”