A Motorist's Lament

Sir,

I apologise for the poor Cyril Fletcher imitation but it does relate my recent motoring experiences:

“Vauxhall Rubbish” they used to say;

“The bodywork just rots away.”

But what is this acclaimed by Press

At great expense, a new process.

Everything pickled, water traps abolished,

A new kind of paint, requires no polish.

One of this breed I must possess,

I out and bought a new X.

My pride and joy, four year’s or more.

Just turn the key and foot to the floor.

Mechanical parts replaced were few,

A gearbox link and ball-joint or two,

Wheel bearings replaced for good measure.

No breakdown I hope will spoil my leisure.

Performance high, consumption low,

At 43,000 all systems go.

I’ll double that distance without any bother

And then I may even convert it to hover.

But what is that light I see through the valance?

A hole in my car; no, not a chance.

Inquisitive fingers explore the rest.

Alas, I have no body left.

Foot to the floor? No, foot through the floor;

I’ll need glass-fibre and paint galore.

Put pencil to paper in me depression,

Have Vauxhalls still not learnt their lesson?

Gateshead. E. J. Cooper.