Scottish Daily Mail

Today’s poem



I want to go to Not In Service one of these fine days, I’m always seeing buses that are going to the place. But no matter if I wave my arm or move it fore and aft, Bus drivers always look at me as if I’m going daft. They always drive straight past me — they just couldn’t give a toss. If I ran London buses I’d show them who’s the boss. Mind you, there can’t be much to see at this Not In Service place. Every bus I see that’s heading there is empty, full of space. But what really bugs me is that when resources are so low, Buses go to places that no one wants to know. I guess if Not In Service was worth writing home about Like Notting Hill or Nottingham or somewhere else with clout More people would be jumping up and down to go, like me, Or having a proper protest march (though still be back for tea). Perhaps I’ll go to Stoke-onTrent, but I don’t know where that is, Ottery St Mary sounds nice, but somehow just lacks fizz. Southend-on-Sea just came to mind — I could paddle in the briny, I could polish up my deckchair so it comes out nice and shiny. Moreton-in-Marsh sounds really posh, strictly for the birds, And, of course, it’s grand enough for a title of three words. But maybe I’ll just stay at home and wonder what the fuss is. Croydon has just one word — but at least it has good buses.

Barry Williams, Croydon, Surrey.

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