BBC Presents: The News – aka: The Good Old Conservative Club
Norm is a regular voter, wears a knowing boater hat
In the summer on the backs, or playing on lawns with jacks
A figure fifty years or more time-challenged going back
Who swills down Abbott Ale from a hefty fifty gallon sack
Don is of higher circles, is patrician altogether
Surrounded, set on full jam shelves, of a regal bonded leather
He likes to think he’s hyper-hip to tip the wink to others
On what’s the trended forecast. Then there’s that Carruthers,
A blithering fuss of ill-presumed half-formed intent
Ever emblazoning rampant couchant camp accoutrements
Of a bankrupt-mind Micawber wearing prissy points of view
That as things were he estimates has long been overdue
Such creatures are the surplus, upkeep daffodilled roundabouts
Concieve policemen overgrown undergraduate boy scouts
Approve the Raleigh bicycle and an early Evensong
Make all excuse to hear themselves talk blethers all day long
Their scions shine, the talking classes, daughters? hardly, nay,
(The Ladies are preternatural talkers nonetheless they say)
Hear you their TV buckshot commentators’ scattergun array
Here the alumni parcelling out the beans-in-sauce they spill
Not Heinz, no way; perhaps some fancy high-end food hall brand
Tasting like dockers’ loincloths, labelled Made in Disneyland
That pours out dry and non-revealing cuts of reformed ham,
Frittered and culled in the early mornings from the Tabloids’ charabanc
Dressings of mighty-obvious grace a sterling brand new plate
Of filleted cods overcooked, but cold, because arriving late
Bones yet within it, not yet made about with and so picked
‘Just sound-off as if you know your stuff’ – indeed that’s all the trick!
Guys they get handsome paid for pushing tour de force boiled scraps
A bubble ‘n squeak of rumour ghosting bogies’ late-sprung traps
New laid and dusted over with a sprig of painted folly
Here are the feeds from prigs who fire up simple people’s worry
Everything’s normal, everything is tout suite correct, secure,
Just as so long as who’s in power remains (of course) in power
Be wary though, of others, the foreign sorts, or those inept,
Ot that just plain dangerous thinking sort: thus is the day’s collect
Incanted every day to every high church dancing measure
Set to the full variety of received chant as forgathered
Bound-up, and published, imprimis, in service books of text,
One takes ensample illustrations from, they’re graded to perplex
A captive Tory audience, wandering desert Promised Lands
Looking for one like Moses, one whose bought assurance stands,
When greatly in consternation at the new perturbance thrummed
Construing its sombre dooms to pledge a bleak November land:-
Their indifference confounds together, now and ever; news and views
Their informers, provoking ever, look for the next-up reed to bruise
This poem is also posted at our anomalist design blog: http://blog.anomalistdesign.com/bbc-presents-the-news-aka-the-good-old-conservative-club/
You can also find this poem at linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/feed/update/urn:li:activity:6290090839779704832/
Hi