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SP30

I was trying to go where no man had gone before, edging the speedo past 44,
Flying headlong into the arms of the law,
He gravely flags me down, with authority of H M Crown,
I halt the car,
He looks it up and down, straightens his pristine jacket and fixes me a frown,
Can he know I've been here before, with 6 points already to my score,
I hear the clang of a prison door.........

With legs gone guilty and weak, I envy the innocence of the passenger seat,
He leaves me there to stew, while I think, ‘this cant be true’
What would Bond, Bourne or Bronson do....

So I light a fag and sit still, until, I'm summoned from the cockpit by the old bill,
Who smooths down his hair, I unstick my self from the sweaty chair,
He begins to speak, 'Sir could you tell me the limit on this highway'
I think carefully just what I say, ........

‘Erm perhaps it's 40 miles per hour ?.. Or possibly a little slower’,
His frown becomes a glower, ‘The sign ahead says 30 sir, a fixed penalty you will incur’,
‘And if you need any proof of what you've done, take a look at this plastic gun’,
The proof of madness is writ in red, I say ‘I'm sorry’ and lower my head,
‘Have you anything else to say ? ’
I think of rendition and Guantanamo Bay......

‘no ! ‘
So trial by paperwork begins, unearthing past crimes and sins,
I try to get him off the scent, with talk of three new tyres and how much I spent,
But he's dressed to impress upon me my place,
A reckless driver in this human race, his patent shoes reflect my sorry face,
So I offer words of deep remorse, ‘I'm a disgrace’...,’ any chance of driving course ?’

He hands me my script and remains tight lipped
It’s no use, I’ve been endorsed ...