POEM: Ode To The Motorist
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.