the weekly

Saving The Planet

This is your captain speaking
At the sheer height of depravity;
The rocket fuel is leaking,
And I have no sense of gravity.

My words are clear but fervent,
Without a doubt, without a face:
Since I'm a civil servant
And heading into outer space.

I set off in this vessel
The moment that the siren went,
And generally, I wrestle
With saving the environment.

The goldfish bowl I'm wearing
Is cosy (as a bubble is):
I'm a cold fish, but I'm haring
To where the eco-trouble is.

No fuel like an old fuel
To save the planet sooner – see?
My carbon footprint's cruel,
But there's method in my lunacy.

There's imminent disaster.
I sit here, grim, an icicle.
But I'll beat the problem faster
If I do not use a bicycle.

Click here for the story in The Guardian.

Saving The Planet
British public servants flew the equivalent of 640 return flights to the moon in the twenty months between April 2006 and December 2007.
March 26 2008


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