Cut Off In His Prime.
It’s goodbye to Mister O’Reilly,
How it pains him to be laid off,
The guy Fox ranked and paid so highly
Finds he, not those dames have been paid off.
Ask Bill how those base bitchy allegations hurt,
So many nasty ladies, so much scandalous talk,
All casting poor red-blooded Willy as a pervert,
Getting their claws into Foxes cock of the walk.
Losing those millions he was set to accrue
Is bound to stick painfully in his craw,
But worse, in his misogynistic view
Is ladies showing HIM the door.
An ordinary day, and out of the blue comes an ironic occurrence.
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.