Tuesday, 30 July 2019

The Wheel-Spinners & Grunters Social Club, satire poem

The taxis and minis all screech to a halt
As a big BMW breaks the law
He's heading for the social club
Foot pressed to the floor

The Wheel-Spinners' & Grunters' Social Club
Only 4x4's allowed
And sports cars (if they're big enough)
'Cause the crucial bit is - LOUD

Two thousand million years
To bury carbon 'neath the clay
Now it's burnt in twenty decades
'Cause we need BIG toys for play

Oral, anal, genital
Old Sigmund's in a daze
'Cause he missed 'The Biggest Conker'
- The adolescent phase

They've a fondness for bananas
(Skins are thrown into the drain)
There's a stance that says 'Each testicle
Is bigger than my brain.'

There's tornadoes in Bermuda
Sandstorms in the middle east
The sea's invaded Alabama
Alligators have a feast

As the goddess tries to cleanse the Earth
Of this greedy parasite
And restore a sort of balance
To the earthly paradise

One swam over the cuckoo's nest -
(There's no sight of land in Devon)
Hear that midsummer night's scream
In Stratford under Avon

There's lightning in Leipzig
And mud in place of floor
They're sleepless in Seattle
As the rain lashes the door

They're witless in Wigan
At the petrol-shortage news
As they leap into their grunt-mobiles
Engines fuming, stand in queues

We're waking up in Woking
And we're gonna join in too
If the TV says 'materialism'
Then I'm bound to. Aren't you?

The Wheel-Spinners' & Grunters' Social Club
The owner's car 1 GRUNT in view
Now I know I've really made it
'Cause I've bought the plate GRUNT 2

1 comment :

  1. The problems of pudding-heads identifying with their car seems to be getting worse.

    A car parked over the whole pavement, just now, along an empty, quiet road ... A man visits his son up there ... in his wheelchair


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