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POEM: Ode To The Motorist

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From Marden Crescent to Beach Grove

Adrenalin junkies descend in droves

Not to kite-surf beyond the pier,

We are the motorists living in fear.

Round the pointless one-way streets

The army of traffic wardens on their beats

How many are there? Fifty, one hundred?

Dare park for a minute, in the back lanes they’re hunkered.

Hiding, two and three at a time

Ready to pounce for the heinous crime

Of ordinary people doing ordinary stuff

Pay your council tax, did you think that was enough?

If you broker a veneer of common sense,

The camera car will manifest,

And over-rule your conversation

With science-fictional cancellation.

This odious, thinkpol surveillance tool

Doubtless paid for by us poor fools

Who thought our money would be used to improve

Roads that resemble the surface of the moon.

You know the ones that chunk your tyres,

Break your ball-joints, and make you swerve.

The sunken craters of Marden Bridge

Will soon be a feature on google-earth.

But never mind, its another day

To live and work in Whitley Bay.

No point complaining, you have no say.

David Foulkes

Whitley Bay