Sometimes we battle the winds and
shout back at the thunder,
become the budgie on the ladder,
the rat on the treadmill,
steering ourselves and our kin
through the rapids,
dodging the craters and potholes on
life’s highways,
diverting left and right, dodging
slips, trips and falls,
fighting the bulls and bears, the
boom-bust-boom-bust bankers,
carrying the depression of the
recession, shoulders forced to sink,
falling exhausted into the
armchair, feeling like the weakest link.
Then, flickering on the screen in
the big box in the corner,
our George, the fiscal funster, all furrowed, a deadpan chap ,
tells us that times are hard and
friends are few,
reminding us that the whole world
order is “out of order”,
that we should see our leaders in
the form of a bright blessing,
as he blinds us with talk of
money-maths ending in endless zeros,
and I try not to think of this eek-onomics man as a curse,
until I check for my share and find there’s nothing in my
purse.
Compared to how Dick Turpin went
about his chosen task,
is this Osborne Autumn Statement another method…
.....with the same mask?
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