Traffic Control
Hi there, I am red and amber
While you’re waiting by my light:
You are on an awkward camber,
Best to check that you’re all right –
Look as if you’ve had a fight…
What no driver? ¡Ay, caramba!
Look, your bonnet is dishevelled;
Look, your carburettor’s bent;
Look, I think it’s time I levelled:
I wonder where your steering went.
What happened to your government?
Your offside mirror is bedevilled!
Hi there I am green and dandy,
Always pleased to have a chat.
What’s your modus operandi?
Why are all your tyres flat?
Who has burst your thermostat?
Wouldn’t fuel come in handy?
Hi there. Shouldn’t you be moving?
Turn your motor over quick.
Do not sound so disapproving:
Honking is a nasty trick.
Drive off, as is politic,
Down the road, as is behooving.
I am no Belisha Beacon,
I can tell you’re in distress –
Who on earth is that, a freakin
Fatboy passenger? Confess!
He’s the darling of the Press?
Week out? Really? Also Week in?
Now I’m amber, now I’m red:
No need to be quite so stroppy.
Your cylinder has lost its head,
The tide inside your tank is choppy.
Britain, you’re an old jalopy –
There’s a scrapyard up ahead.
Your back seat is a busted sofa,
Suspension not on even keel.
Is there roadside help to go for?
Assistance for the Britmobile!
Someone needs to grasp the wheel!
Go and get yourself a chauffeur!
Click here for a Guardian article
