Roundabouts and traffic lights

Roundabouts are capitalist and traffic lights are socialist. So said my father on a recent family road trip through France. It wasn't a question, or even a ponderous effusion of a flimsy idea, but a self-assured statement of fact.

And he was right. Roundabouts are the epitome of capitalist theory (albeit simplified). When trying to get a leg up into the heady heights of the 'real world', you will put your foot on whoever or whatever is close to you, whether they be a relative stranger in physical proximity or a long-standing family friend. Likewise, as you cruise through town in, let's say, your banged up Renault Clio, you might perchance find yourself tailing a fat cat in his 4x4 as you approach said capitalist junction. Take full advantage of the other roundabout drivers who delay their entry for a split second while they curse the gas-guzzling monster (in the countryside this happens less frequently, 4x4s being a necessary aide to country life in many cases) and mouse-like, slip in behind him. Lorries cars bikes vans stream in from the opposite side: exploit them as they obstruct the traffic immediately to your right. A roundabout is like society - or human nature, more specifically: it's a survival of the fittest, a car-eat-car world.

The traffic light, however, favours the lazy, the bleary-eyed, those whose reactions are as slothful as a sloth hanging heavily from his branch. And as these sloths slope slothfully into the road, the rest of us must sit there in our cars vibrating and pulsating at the violet hour. I have not been driving long in the grand scheme of things - a mere four years - and yet I am certain that as many hours of my life have been frittered away, the seconds and milliseconds drummed out by my fingers on the steering wheel with a patience for their task, born of an impatience of the situation at hand as I sit at yet another red light. Four hours. That's long enough, by my calculation, to make and eat 120 pieces of toast, read a novel from beginning to end, watch two films (plus bonus features) or make love several times.

Such thrills must remain fantasies for those of us faced with the ubiquitous red eyes of Sauron that are traffic lights. We must tap feet, fiddle with gearsticks and fire off expletives at the car in front (who is oblivious to the fact that the light has actually now turned green). I'd like to take a picture of one, upload it onto photoshop and edit it using red-eye. I'd make it sea grey-blue or mossy green with scratchings of brown bark. Then I could gaze lovingly into its persistent eye. I can't deny that I am filled with a glee that surpasses the rewards of roundabouts when Sauron's eye is turned away and I am faced with his green other half. But it is nevertheless a glee full of hatred for something that is nothing other than an enemy, and even if I do defeat him from time to time, I'd rather he wasn't there at all.

The roundabout, though, there's an inspired invention. (I am discounting the mini roundabout, the feeblest of the feeble, as it submits to being driven straight over without raising an eyebrow, thereby failing entirely as a junction and succeeding only in inflating the egos of road users who get a kick from walking all over people). But as I was saying, the roundabout is truly magnificent; the king of the road, crowned in glory. Driving along, you spy a green, flower-topped mound ahead. Aha! Slow up, get in lane, indicate. You look right, your foot hovers, tentative, over accelerator and brake - will there be a gap, won't there? Yes! - no, Disappointment loiters above your passenger seat, ready to sit down and strap in. Yet you don't stop, accelerating at the last minute, and he flies out of the open window with a whining scream lost in the buzz of other engines. Slam your foot down and revel in the roar of the revs as you follow the artful curve. None of those right-angled, stop/start, traffic-light-controlled crossroads. Feel the immeasurable satisfaction as you glide seamlessly from one road to the next.

A roundabout by any other name certainly would not smell as sweet - there would be no initial 'r' to roll and recreate the revs, you would not be able to drive round the curvaceous 'ou' or to exit with the clipped, business-like 'about'. 'Traffic light' says it all, too. 'Tr' is the noise a silent adolescent makes when he is unimpressed and unamused and the hard 'c' rudely forces you to stop abruptly. Having 'light' in there is just plain misleading, light bulbs being synonymous with good ideas.

I'm not a political person. However, I am convinced of three things. One, that roundabouts are indeed capitalist and traffic lights, socialist. Two, that I infinitely prefer the former. Three, that therefore I must be a capitalist, and so in some vague way be a politicised person. Wouldn't it all be so much easier if instead of agonising over the pros and cons of academies, free milk for under-fives and the funding for Trident and choosing the best of a fairly unattractive lot of politicians that way, we just selected our preferred party based on their similarities to road junctions?