What it Says About You

By | 28 February 2013

That when you could be usefully
putting another stain on your waistcoat
or staring into the toilet bowl
to ponder the true meaning of
Armitage Shanks; you’re here
talking to a guy from
nineteen seventy,
whose last great idea
was a stolen transistor radio
through which he used to receive
Jimmy Savile’s voice.

He doesn’t want
fluoride in his elderflower tea, insists
on sharing with the whole room
the smell of things that died
in his prisoner-of-conscience beard
the night police special branch ran
not enough electricity through
his balls. Into our nostrils

the essence of the Yogi’s last nappy;
as you raise the drink you bought
with an Arts Council grant
meant for something else
to those like him
who drank the Kool-Aid
but didn’t have the decency to

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