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Meditation on the A30

 A man on his own in a car
Is revenging himself on his wife;
He open the throttle and bubbles with dottle
and puffs at his pitiful life

She's losing her looks very fast,
she loses her temper all day;
that lorry won't let me get past,
this Mini is blocking my way.
"Why can't you step on it and shift her! I can't go on crawling like this! At breakfast she said that she wished I was dead- Thank heavens we don't have to kiss.
"I'ld like a nice blonde on my knee And one who won't argue or nag.
Who dares to come hooting at me? I only give way to a Jag.
"You're barmy or plastered, I'll pass you, you bastard- I will overtake you.
I will!" As he clenches his pipe, his moment is ripe And the corner's accepting its kill.

by John Betjeman
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