Live Radio.

An ordinary day, and out of the blue comes an ironic occurrence.
Strange days.

Live Radio.

I drove off for work, on to the motorway
Gods summer sun had risen in its usual way,
But since Trumps win I wonder about His plan
And take normality whenever and wherever I can.

The idea of yet another early start
Didn’t exactly warm the cockles of my heart,
Driving morosely along in my air-conditioned cocoon,
To raise my spirits the radio spewed out a current tune.

After assaulting me with Swifts latest single
My ears were further assailed by a jaunty jingle,
All manner of services use Radio Lives advertising
But a lively pitch for a Crematorium is most surprising.

Tears sprung unbidden from my eyes,
It took an eternity for me to sorrily realise
I’d drifted unintentionally into the outer lane-
The boy racer and 16 wheeler’s eminent domain.

Placed in the perfect position to meet my maker
By an innovative advertisement by an undertaker;
A wide-eyed truck driver hit the brakes and the horn
As a barrage of blasphemy resounded through the morn.

Six inches from my eyes was a smoking tyre,
Luckily for me there would be smoke but no fire,
But I knew I’d very near been driven to the hereafter
Thanks to an incongruous ad and uncontrolled laughter.

Slowly, carefully I drove on shaking with relief,
Thinking that someones life might be all too brief,
Every fifteen minutes I hear that bloody jingle jangle
And reflect on a smart-ass Ad executive I’d like to strangle.

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