Nonsense Road

I had to go to Gatwick yesterday on business, and what a fucking ball ache it turned out to be. I had to be there for 10:30 a.m. so to save getting up at stupid o'clock, I arranged an overnight stay. I thought if I set off around 8 p.m., miss the traffic and be there in time to blow the head off a couple of pints before retiring for the evening. The old SatNav said 243 miles, and reckoned just under four hours, something I figured I could knock at least an hour and a half off, but then I forgot to factor in all the bullshit nonsense that has been foisted upon this country. I was flying, till I hit some invisible road works a little south of Sheffield. Three lanes of pristine motorway, crystal clear evening, light trafffic and not a workman to be seen for miles. Yet for some unknown reason, there was a fifty mile an hour limit, enforced by an average speed camera. And it went on and on and on. Finally the restrictions were lifted, and off I set, hoping to make up lost time, and things looked rosy for the next fifty miles, till I was struck yet again by the same curse that seemed to go on forever. The major difference with this one, was that it went suddenly down to one lane, which meant, with the M25 only 40-50 miles away, I got to sit stationary in the middle of nowhere for half an hour, as all the knobheads clogged up the bottle neck, by flying down the soon to be closed lane, and trying to muscle in at the last minute. Finally I reached the M25, ready to to burn off the final leg of my journey, only for the SatNav to start bleeping speed camera locations, limiting me to sevnty m.p.h. on an empty road, in the middle of the night. Still the SatNav was still wrong about the journey time. It took half an hour longer. This was nothing to the trip home. Again four hours was the estimated travel time, and off I set at 3 p.m., thinking I could get home in plenty of time for footie. After about five mother fucking miles though, I was stuck on a monitored M25, flashing a 50m.p.h speed limit, for reasons I am unable to comprehend. Five lanes of motorway, crawling along at twenty miles under the speed limit, with no roadworks or crashes or reason. After a seemingley endless passage of time on the M25, I got to park up and watch the stationary road diggers and workman on th M1, that were supposedley working, to grant me the chance to sit there and wonder what the holy fuck I was doing sitting still on road, for the reason of their supposed work. At least I got to laugh at the average speed cameras, set too 50 m.p.h., as I crawled past at the giddy speed of five miles per hour. This went on for 15 miles. Once cleared, I then had to put up with the morons who stick on the cruise contol, and drive along the middle and outer lane refusing to budge. Then there was the people who slam on for no reason. And why do people whack on fog lights in the slightest of mists? I could continue to catalouge the stupid drivers, and pointless road works for the next three hours, but I think you may well have got the point by now. I arrived home at 8:30 p.m., five and a half hours after setting off. Un- fucking-beleivable.