A Bridge Too Far (Poetry)

Roll up! Roll up! Come step this way —
try London’s latest thrill —
a miracle of Brit design,
Sir Norm’s unrivalled skill
created this unsteady link
across the river wide,
suspended, queasy in the breeze,
a giant fairground ride.

The ghost of Telford, looking on,
gravely shakes his head
and dreams what sixteen million quid
might have built instead.
The Menai cost a fair bit less
and no computers then
to calculate the stress and strain
and take the blame for men.

Incompetence or sheer bad luck —
another laughing stock
to mar the new Millennium
as wobbly rafters rock.
For, like the Dome’s great circus tent,
they’ve plumped for something flash,
got poor Joe Public to fork out
then pissed away the cash.

We voted in this blinkered bunch
so get what we deserve —
a spate of third rate monuments
too tacky to preserve
for future generations who
might ridicule our taste
and take a kindly wrecking ball
to exorcise the place.

God save us from a Channel bridge —
the world has seen enough
of modern engineering boobs
and politicians’ bluff.
So mother find the dynamite,
I’ll buzz the IRA
and write a letter to The Times,
it’s almost Judgement Day.