I'm not sure this is terribly good, but contains a couple of phrases that amuse me.
Clearing up the mess, the mess
I have come to love the gangsters of pitilessness -
with their courteous knives and their speechwriters
you met in a Clapham bar in 2004,
getting the titles and plots of films wrong
looking askance like you owed them a drink -
I have come to love the lights out of them
eventually, for what else is there to do -
as they sledgehammer printing presses
in the name of growth and utility,
after all, we were the ones who failed to practise penalty
shoot outs -
yes, what else is there left on this rebounding earth
but to love their sternly empty lectures & inept grasp of
history
since they were on their bike and entrepreneurial
and we were watching late night poker
while eating pistachios in the bath, and they advise us
as they recongeal more righteous and new than ever
to wrap ourselves in foil and buy a new kettle
for our rusty oligarch yachts for which we overpaid
because we were lazy fools
who were holding Britain back.
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