It is reported that it has been snowing and the usual travel chaos has ensued.

It snowed a bit, I think, last night,
I wondered if it would, or might,
Cause problems in the morning rush,
With drivers getting out to push.

The gritters had been out all night,
The train tracks checked with IR light,
But, in the end, road, rail and plane,
Were bound to see delays again.

When this occurs folk bitch and moan,
Can’t get to work or later home;
And any transport they might use,
Is bound to be mobbed out with queues.

The schools are closed, the kids can’t go,
So they all play out in the snow,
And if they should fall down or trip,
They’re advised not to break a hip,
Because to get to A and E,
Might not so very easy be.

But to these folk I should explain,
That transport systems in the main,
Are always running at full tilt,
Because some more needs to be built.

And so when things like snow occur,
It’s pretty easy to infer,
That disruption there’s bound to be,
Upsetting then both he and she.

So when it snows, then what to do?
There’s not one answer, it is true,
So better just warm clothes to don,




It is reported that a government proposal to make the wearing of helmets and hi-viz vests by cyclists compulsory is being criticised as it is thought it may lull both cyclists and drivers into a false sense of security and result in even more accidents.

A cyclist gets, I rather feel,
A pretty poor – in fact, raw – deal;
Not much to pay by way of bills,
But he must cycle up the hills.

For him there’s nought to take the strain,
Which might give rise to muscle pain,
And if he falls down on the floor,
His pain might then increase some more.

Crash helmets might help, some would say,
And hi-viz clothing on display,
But others say that there could be,
A false sense of security.

It’s feared cyclists will go too fast,
Not thinking this might be the last,
Journey that they might ever make,
And that could be a big mistake.

And when cars see the viz that’s hi,
They will, perhaps, more often try,
To overtake on curves and bends,
The places lives can often end.

So, all in all, things could get worse,
With extra bookings for the hearse;
Protective clothing, it appears,
Perhaps might not deserve three cheers!



It is reported that police are driving along motorways in unmarked lorries to catch dangerous drivers.

The phone! The phone! That we all own,
Must not be used as is well-known,
When driving cars along the road,
Or lorries with a heavy load.

You might well find yourself in court,
But only if you first get caught,
And to this end the police have got,
Trucks of their own, as like as not.

They drive along, they sit up high,
So they can see the reason why,
The lorry wobbled side to side,
Which then the driver cannot hide.

The phone is now the main offence,
Defying, still, all common sense,
For using one is rather rash,
And sometimes can lead to a crash.

But other things are done as well,
Like eating lunch as they can tell,
And, though it is beyond belief,
One driver was cleaning his teeth.

While dental hygiene ought to be,
Applauded by both you and me,
For it there is both place and time,
And that is not here in this rhyme.

Such drivers all end up in court,
For doing things they didn’t ought;
Such things are quite beyond the pale,
And they might find themselves in jail.

That’s if they’re lucky, some are not,
For they have really lost the plot,
And if they have a crash one day,
It might be with their life they’ll pay.



It is reported that more than sixty French towns are using horses for pulling dustcarts and school buses as it is considered green and is helping to preserve the traditional poitevin breed of heavy horse which was facing extinction following the widespread introduction of tractors in farming – yes, even in France!

Some people think the French are quaint,
For they a lovely picture paint,
Of chateaux, villages and more,
Which people visit by the score.

With old traditions on display,
The tourists are prepared to pay,
For hotels, restaurants, wine as well,
Despite the lunchtime garlic smell.

But one tradition’s largely gone,
For, though there’s still filet mignon,
The horses used to plough the field,
Eventually have had to yield,
To modern tractors which can do,
The work and with no need for shoe.

But farmers now regret all this,
Their lovely horses they all miss;
And so they are now coming back,
But not along farm lanes and track;
No, they’ve a job that’s rather smart –
Pulling the school bus and dustcart.

So everybody’s happy now,
And though the horses do not plough,
The dustcarts are all very green,
And horses, now back on the scene,
Means that old ways are here to stay,
And tourists will not stay away.

Image – Eponimm / Wikimedia commons


Traffic warden

It is reported that thousands of parking ticket machines have not been modified and can still only take the old £1 coin which ceased to be legal tender on 15 October. But if you are thinking of putting an old £1 coin in … think again.

The old pound coin is now no use,
So if you’ve one in your change loose,
You might think it’s une bonne idée,
To use it in the parking bay.

And helping you in this, your plan,
Is your new friend, the Council Man,
Because he has been rather slow,
Preparing for these coins to go.

So his machines will not take new,
You can’t use them to pay your due,
And so it seems right to suggest,
The course of action that is best,
Is use your old coins in this way,
By which I mean for parking pay.

But if you do so then beware –
This next bit’s true, it’s not a scare –
These coins not legal tender are,
So, though it might sound quite bizarre,
If they for parking pay toward,
That may well constitute a fraud.

And fraud is an important crime,
Much worse than just a yellow line;
It’s pretty high up on the scale,
And you could find yourself in jail.

So with these old coins do take care,
You might complain that things aren’t fair,
And though such things I can’t excuse,
It’s heads they win and tails you lose!


Amsterdam cheese shop

It is reported that Amsterdam has banned the opening of any more tourist shops since it believes that there are enough already and that more would degrade the cultural experience of the city.

In Amsterdam are lots of shops,
They sell all things from cheese to tops,
And now the city has decreed,
That there is no increasing need,
For windmills, tulips, cheese or clogs,
As you can learn here in my blogs.

So new shops will not be allowed,
Because the tourists can all crowd,
Into the shops already there,
And probably with some to spare.

But what of shops with lights of red?
Well, I think I have heard it said,
That there where folk shop in the buff,
Of those they’ve also got enough!



It is reported that a Royal Mail strike is threatened at Christmas.

Now Christmas comes but once a year,
And generally you would prefer,
To send your cards by Royal Mail,
But don’t send cakes – they might go stale.

Cards, formerly, were just a few:
Your best friends – maybe one or two –
And probably the mother-in-law,
Which brings the total up to four.

But over time the list has grown,
As your bank balance might have shown,
And dozens of the things get bought,
Which then the postmen have to sort.

Now if you’re stingy, that’s like me,
And buy cards for about three p,
You’re bound to be distressed to find,
That even this much cheaper kind
Of card will cost the same to post,
As pricey ones that cost the most.

It’s fifty-six pence – second class,
Or for those who’ve got too much brass,
The Royal Mail will them deprive,
For first class of pence sixty-five.

“That’s thirteen shillings!” you exclaim,
“It’s daylight theft in all but name!
Time was when an amount like that,
Would buy the wife a Sunday hat!”

But, anyway, I have digressed,
Because I do not know what’s best,
But if the strikers don’t relent,
Perhaps they have a lifeline sent.

For if there is no post at all,
Even my cheap cards, which are small,
Cannot be sent so won’t be bought,
Thus saving more cash than I thought.

So who says news is always bad?
A strike might be the best we’ve had;
And it might bring much Christmas cheer –
At least to stingy folk round here!