Back in days of yore, the path of the M25 ring road, peripherique or orbital sander looked much as it was here:
It was called the M25 because it was 25 miles from the centre and it was mown to distinguish it from the surrounding bog around Tottenham’s home ground. Another theory had it that the designation was derived from the famous South Mimms services but that’s somebody’s canard.
That’s when city fathers decided to ‘improve’ the road for some strange reason, hardly guessing what a complete shemozzle it would one day become – the mowing was replaced by gravel and cowpats and there were no services other than the eternal South Mimms.
With the Industrial Revolution, macadamised roads became all the rage, along with patchwork iron bridges across huge gorges – they had no idea what was going to hit them once the fiendish automobile had been invented.
Fast forward to December 2019 and this below was the state of the M25, hell on earth, sung about by Chris Rea in the 80s.
However, in 2020, the Coronavirus was rolled out to reduce traffic and as usual, city fathers simply could not get anything right at all, the human wildlife disappeared and the four-footed variety started to creep back and take over again.
These harts below have not yet rediscovered their whiteness because white is a dirty word these days but they are nonetheless the descendants from the territory of White Hart Lane, where they built a football stadium for Tottenham Hotspurs after shunning the now infamous South Mimms services.
And thus, nature being what it is, the M25 finally went right back to nature, an outcome devoutly to be desired by all. But soft – what of the denizens within the M25?
That is now a penal colony for the eastern invitees, the call to prayer bellowing across the once more primordial swamps, but that’s another story – the tale of the great Tommy Robinson army clearances of Luton, Welwyn Garden City and the unholy South Mimms services.
Beware all those who would defy nature in her outraged virginity.