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'ld 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.

by John Betjeman

Comments (3)

My husband posted this poem on his FB page on our anniversary. I felt deeply hurt and humiliated. He cant see why! I feel it resonated his unconscious dissatisfaction with my looks and his life in general that made him post this. he disagrees. To me the poem is about a dissatisfied man raging at his life, losing his fine judgement ending up in an avoidable death had he shown the courage and maturity and some psychological grit to sit down and discuss issues with his wife. I would appreciate comments and thoughts from other readers.
I know many people like this... scourges of civilisation that they are. I guess this driver is the same 'double chinned' drunk from 'Slough'.
Thank you, John. Good to see you back!