The rhythm of the Lenny Cohen piece below (d'ye s'pose anyone ever calls him Lenny?) reminded me of this by John Betjeman. I particularly like this poem as it's the only use I know of in written English of that sublime word dottle. Is it Middlesex where he gets in the name Murray Posh?

A man on his own in a car

Is revenging himself on his wife;

He open the throttle and bubbles with dottle

and puffs at his pitiful life

She's losing her looks very fast,

she loses her temper all day;

that lorry won't let me get past,

this Mini is blocking my way.

"Why can't you step on it and shift her!

I can't go on crawling like this!

At breakfast she said that she wished I was dead-

Thank heavens we don't have to kiss.

"I'ld like a nice blonde on my knee

And one who won't argue or nag.

Who dares to come hooting at me?

I only give way to a Jag.

"You're barmy or plastered, I'll pass you, you bastard-

I will overtake you. I will!"

As he clenches his pipe, his moment is ripe

And the corner's accepting its kill.

Credit: Reprinted with the permission of John Murray (Publishers) Ltd