BBC Presents: The News – aka: The Good Old Conservative Club

last month
64 in poetry

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/

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Hi