Girl With One Track Mind (Sexhunters)
I Fell in Love on the Northern Line
Ma And Pa Salute King Car by Martin Newell
Ma and Pa salute King Car
The dirty despot roars and squeals
Yummy Mummy thinks it's scrummy
When her wendy-house on wheels
Whizzes through Edwardian crescents
Past the card-less, car-less peasants
Hacking down Crimea Street
Queenie in her comfy seat
Bike-rack, bullbars, dog beside her
Sat-nav Prozac voice to guide her
Tells us why and who we are
Ma and Pa salute King Car.
Bad King Car, the filthy bastard
Far too greedy. Thanks to him
Fat despairing twenty-somethings
Have to drive to reach the gym
Bubble-headed, weeble-wobbles
Used to think that Central Locking
Was a village in the Midlands
Where they first invented twoccing
Children's school in bandit country?
Over miles of rock-strewn tundra
Is it, lady Is it really?
That the myth you labour under?
Four wheels favours fatter arses
Tescos deep in mountain passes
Buggered if they'll walk so far
Ma and Pa salute King Car
"Well... I don't like cars much either
But I have to have one yaah?"
Had a transport seminar
Which is why I bought my car
Almost two whole miles from here
Travel exes all completed.
Couldn't walk. Suppose it sleeted?
And the bus would be too dear.
Nope. Fat car's the only answer
Big fat four-wheel munter, Boy
Me puffed up in Puffa jacket
Howling at the hoi-polloi.
Politicians couldn't hack it
Far too loaded for the voters
Oh they'll hammer drinkers, smokers
Over-eaters, then they'll focus
On the health and welfare issues
Blow into the same old tissues
What they won't touch is the driver
Do we have a Cycling Czar?
Course not. We won't get one either.
Ma and Pa salute King Car.
Soon we'll make a future car
The eco-lesion, suture car
One speed, two-shade, mobile shed
Yellow polka dots on red
Top speed forty miles an hour
Chicken-shit and solar power
Need a motor? There's just one.
But no status and no fun.
Nothing there to make you proud
And the only car allowed
There's no butchness and no buzz
Gets you there, that's all it does.
Car to suit our fragile times
Fitted out with ice-cream chimes
That should make the boys feel silly
It's the car that's not a willy
And it plays a stupid tune
Be afraid. It's coming soon.
In the meantime, Superstar
Ride that roadway, tame that tar
Whack that track to hell and back
Cancer, stroke and heart-attack
Kill that walker. Maim that dyke
Knock that hippie off his bike
Pig that pavement, hog that street
Petrolhead on techno-beat
Parliament will keep you sweet
'Less he wants to risk his seat
Road Rage V(ery) C(ross) and Bar
Ma and Pa salute King Car.
Posted: August 2007.
Copyright: Martin Newell.