I really don’t like to boast,
But I’m the driver with the most.
From John O’Groats to Cornwall,
I’ve toured Britain coast to coast.
A perfect, spotless licence
For fifty-something years,
A prang or two, that much is true,
When I was caught unawares.
You can keep your souped-up sports cars,
With all their speed and power,
Why on earth should you need to exceed
Fifteen miles an hour?
Out on the open road, carefree,
That’s where you’ll always find me.
And by some brilliant stroke of luck
The traffic jam’s always behind me.
I never booze, though I sometimes snooze
At the wheel for a moment or two,
But not for long as I have to wake up
And stop to find a loo.
I’m probably the safest driver
In the fastest or slowest lane,
So I can’t understand why they’re asking me
To take my test again.
Clive Whichelow is a British comedy writer who has contributed to several classic tv comedy shows. This poem is from his poetry book Odes for Oldies.