Miles Kington, 1941-2008. (a motorway ballad in English follows after the Italian text).

Forse in Italia pochi conoscono quest'uomo, Miles Kington, morto ieri a soli 66 anni causa una improvvisa malattia. è stato un grande umorista (nonché musicista jazz) che per tanti anni ha allietato i pendolari come me lettori dell'Independent, dove la sua colonna riportava frequentemente tra l'altro gli spassosissimi "verbali" delle riunioni delle "divinità unite", una sorta di senato dove si riuniscono gli dei di tutte le religioni (compresi quelli greco-romani, indiani, scandinavi...), ed è stato anche il massimo autore di libri in Franglais. mancherà a molti e voglio ricordarlo qui con una sua cosa che riguarda l'Italia, una delle sue ballate autostradali che mi regalò il sorriso per tutto il giorno il 13 aprile 2004. è un suo piccolo capolavoro intraducibile, sennò si perde il ritmo della ballata. ciao Miles!

When the Romans came to Britain
And tried to get around
They saw there was no network
Of transport to be found.

And when they asked the Britons
Just how they got to roam,
The Britons said: "We don't, mate!
We'd rather stay at home!"

Because the ancient Britons
Just never went away
And didn't like to travel
Or go on holiday,

(Or if they really wanted
To go from A to B,
They found it was much quicker
To travel there by sea.)

"All right, you 'orrible savages,"
The Romans promptly said,
"We'll build some proper roadways
To get from A to Z!"

And that was how the Romans,
Who knew a thing or two,
Brought in a traffic policy
To benefit me and you.

They built a motorway system
As good as the very best
With a fast lane for their soldiers
And a slow lane for the rest.

They built roads straight and narrow
They built roads everywhere
(Except to Wales and Scotland,
'Cos who wants to go there?)

But then one day the Romans
Buggered off back home
'Cos all their men were needed
To defend the city of Rome,

And left the roads behind them
Which they had carefully built,
To go to rack and ruin,
And turn to mud and silt.

'Cos the Angles and the Saxons
Were all uncivilised brutes
Who couldn't give a raspberry
For Roman roads and routes.

And King Arthur (if 'e existed)
Was just as bad as they,
For he spent all his time on battles
And none on the royal highway.

Then came the Middle Ages,
When Gothic art was king,
With Durham and with Canterbury,
And Windsor and everything.

Yes, they could build their castles,
Their abbeys and such stuff,
But the roads that joined the cities
Were rough as rough as rough.

They made their towers from granite,
They made their roads from mud.
Their buildings were immortal,
Their roads a load of crud.

And now, millennia later,
It's all got far, far worse.
With the M's all full of gridlock,
And the lanes full of 4-by-4s.

And they make congestion charges
And bypasses by the score
And all that seems to 'appen
Is it gets much worse than before.

But I have been to Italy
And seen their autostrada,
Sweeping up from Sicily
To Como and to Garda,

Yes, the secret of building lovely roads,
The modern Romans know,
To go with their Ferraris
And their Alfa Romeo,

So what I say is, go to Rome
And ask them to come back,
To get our roadways working again
And give our lot the sack!