I think you, the reader of these poems, needs to feel my pain. This weekend it wasn’t with the football, which was excellent. Instead it was a traffic jam on the A12 heading back to my mum’s in Essex, which I was in, and not moving, for three hours. I managed to weave that into this poem, so it wasn’t a total waste.

Ipswich Town 3:0 Swansea City, 28/02/2026

A Variety Of Jams

I come from afar, in a car
for a jar in a bar
and to see who’s Swanned in for a spar.
I thought this tryst would be tricky.
Potentially sticky.
But we set about the Swans pretty quick
and slickly.
As sick as you can get, or bet, came Mehmeti
BASH! He smashed it in the roof of the netti.
Sweet and tasty, play was spread.
Smooth, like you’d move some on, well, bread.
And skills well bred in the head, entangle,
as Azon shoots cute from one acute angle.
The half controlled, we’d stroll and strangle.
Enough to make Snoop Dogg’s jewellery jangle.
Anis mustard, and hard work first,
gobbled on crumbs to then feed Hirst.
A second half with no respite from the host, most
Swans pressed hard, but we had them on toast.
A three-nil win, so who could complain
when stuck in a traffic jam after the game?
Three hours hoping no bodily needs,
and thank the Lord (McKenna) that someone had jump leads!
Speeds resumed, jam on crumpets consumed and yes
journeys of success
must be tasted,
not assumed.

jalapenosteve added 16:36 - Mar 2 This is so good!
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StowTractor added 13:15 - Mar 4 Hope you didnt get stuck on the A12 or at Copdock again last night. But from the traffic news this morning on BBC Suffolk it seems my hope may have been as forlorn as Hull's hope of keeping a clean sheet v Town ultimately turned out to be.
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