by Emmett R Smith
These horrid, depressed and depressing lines are from this UK police weblog:
Matthews Special Day
You hopeless bunch, you useless Swine.
Knew you’d take your fucking time.
A mile from home, or was it four?
I think your response was poor.
Cans of Carling, K-Reg Nova.
Let’s all party now it’s over.
Worried sick, now wheel-spins,
B&H and toothless grins.
Chav-scum scrotes in hooded tops.
Lairy mums with alcopops,
Grubby kids. Absent dads
Still spread their seed with well-used nads.
Laze around on wasteground lawn.
Fuck-all sleep from dusk till dawn.
Welfare (what a fucking) State.
Seen my plasma? Fucking great!
Concealed inside a filthy bed.
Much prefer this place, instead
Of home? Come save me please.
I’ve had enough. I’m on my knees.
My dad ain’t here, the other’s scum.
Not even sure about my fucking mum.
Perhaps in time I’ll find a way
To help forget my Special Day.
(by Michael Pinkstone)
This is an unblinking vernacular summary of clientized life in postmodern nanny state Hell and should serve as a useful antidote to any uncritical Second Wave New Dealism.
[Emmett R Smith all commentary-rights reserved 16 December 2008]