A Lapse Of Luxury.
For years poor German auto drivers have put up with
Being called scheisse drivers, so let’s confirm the myth.
Thank you for your findings, Professor Lonnqvist,
You’ve proved German car drivers head up the S list,
Audi uber alles drivers spin you into the safety fence,
Overtaking, over all the yellow lines, not a bit of sense.
Give any fast approaching
ass-Audi a gentle warning toot-
They’ll leave four conjoined circles puckering your boot.
The Beemer driver is Xcremental arrogance personified,
In traffic jams he sits, front and centre, and woe betide
Any poor plebeian in a Prius who signals an intent to turn,
The Right light may say ‘all go’ but he’ll let the Greenie burn.
He sits in his Dummkofwagon, lording it over the peasantry,
Above reproof, deaf to toots, the cause of all unpleasantry.
But it’s the over-egoed big boy still in thrall to the silver star-
Guaranteed to be the bat crap craziest bad drivers by far-
He’s ecstatic to drive out of the dealers a small fortune lighter
Despite the grave reservations of his insurance underwriter.
The pricey new Mercedes owner is entitled to feel he’s owed
The right to run red lights, give no ways since he owns the road.
See the imperious glint of his eye, and off his gleaming grille?
But it’s the pampering of his polished Panzer that makes me ill ,
His Benz must be protected from all dings, dents or marks,
Ergo, the safest place is to take up two handicapped parks.
As for indicators, these geniuses have no need or wand to know;
But cross ones path- one slick finger flick shows you where to go.