A man on his own in a
Is revenging himself on his wife;
He open the throttle and bubbles with
And puffs at his pitiful
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'd like a nice blonde on my
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
And the corner's accepting its kill.
