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'd 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.