Jams today, more jams tomorrow . . .

‘Oh no, not again!’ I scream and shout, Committed myself, now there’s no way out. I’ve joined the slip road, and all I can see, Is a whole line of traffic right ahead of me. I spend half of my life in b*@*%* queues, I swear to myself as I turn on the news, The traffic announcer confirms what I know — I’m going nowhere for an hour or so. I look to my right, to the cars in that line, It seems to be moving faster than mine, So I indicate quickly — I’ve spotted a gap, Put on my hazards, what a nice chap! But the line to my left is now moving faster, I’m no longer the traffic jam-busting master, Just go with the flow, my inner voice says, You can’t get one over these motorways. Put on some music, that’s what I’ll do, Take my mind off the fact that I’m needing the loo, Haven’t moved for ten minutes — everything’s static, Just lorries and vans and wall-to-wall traffic. No food in this car and I’m hungry as well, I’ll laugh at this one day — a story to tell. Should I switch off the engine? But then I’ll get cold, The fuel’s getting low and the battery is old. The sat-nav’s asleep, she’s got nothing to say, And the radio station confirms that today Is going to get colder, I’ll need a wee dram, Why can’t bad weather get stuck in a jam? Oh wait, there is movement — I think — up ahead, No, I’ve spoken too soon, the brake lights are red. And the bloke in the white van behind me in line Is making a most unsavoury sign. Tick tock goes my life, there’s nothing to do, While I’m going nowhere, stuck in this queue, I’ll call ahead as I’m going to be late, I’ll be there some hour, some time, some date . . . And then, a few minutes past desperation, A chink of light, not yet elation, But I really think that movement has started. The route opens up like the waves have parted. Oh joy, I’m through it, it’s going to be fine, Of course I’m late, but the overhead sign Says 60 now, and without compunction, The sat-nav wakes up and says: ‘Exit next junction.’ So breathe and relax, you’ve got through that strife, These jams are a nuisance, part of modern day life, I’ll accept it for now, but later I’ll curse, For I know that the queues going home are far worse! Paul Hayward, Halesowen, W. Mids.