IT is an unusual driver who is not tempted occasionally to break the

law. An empty dual carriageway stretches before us, the needle is at

70mph, the car is rock-steady . . . Which of us has not checked in the

rear mirror to see if a police car is on our tail? Vroom vroom, our

instincts cry. Let's see if she really does a ton . . . Naturally, we do

nothing of the sort. We deny it utterly. And yet we might confess

readily to breaking other regulations. Among the most irksome are those

to do with parking, and the insidious spread of double yellow lines. We

merely need to buy a paper, or a tin of beans, yet every available

parking space is taken. It is the bolshevik local councillors, we tell

our passengers. They are not only anti-motorist, but anti-trade. They

want to ruin the very shopkeepers who pay for their luxurious offices.

Ah, who has not then taken a chance -- looked carefully in every

direction and then parked for an illicit moment or two?

It is a situation causing much anguish to traders in the little

village of Chalfont St Giles, Buckinghamshire, where the local traffic

warden, Miss Sandra Evans, has been catching too many victims for their

liking. ''She hides beneath the archways, and comes whizzing out like a

spider from a web,'' said Mr Alexander Thom, who has collected 200

protesting signatures. ''People want a bit of a leeway on a yellow line,

but she over-reacts.''

The law is the law, of course, but there are times when its custodians

should show mercy. One recalls the case of James Agate, who urged his

chauffeur to go so fast in a built-up area that they were stopped by a

traffic policeman. The officer took off his gauntlets and looked grim,

but then recognised the chauffeur and gave him a smacking kiss on the

lips. ''Off you go and don't do it again,'' he said. ''Who was that?''

Agate asked. ''I don't remember his name, sir,'' said the chauffeur.

''But we were in the Guards together.''