Seven months have passed
Since I bought my last newspaper.
I grew tired of the news,
Of the analysing of analysis,
Opinions on opinions,
Columns of claptrap,
Surveys and research,
Scare stories and mischief,
Agendas and spin,
Celebrity gossip and angst,
Recipes and lifestyle,
Vouchers and crosswords,
Competitions and junk inserts,
All the bullshit boredom of it all,
Serious reportage mixing with fluff,
Enough was enough was enough was enough.
I miss the odd writer
With an intelligent head
But I have opted for a clutter-free
Existence instead.
I've no regrets, none,
No affection still lingers,
But I do kinda miss
The printing ink on my fingers.
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