Deflated
I am a man, eat parmesan
in righteous indignation:
and here, I've drawn my final plan
for dealing with deflation.
CDs? I do not go for those - they
went out with the Ark.
Wine-box? No, I'm drinking rosé
in the cold and dark.
Don't give me your frozen chicken,
drumsticks thick with frost -
let me watch the storm-clouds thicken,
as long as they don't cost.
Bring me eggs and MP4
and online DVDs,
and lay some hardwood on my floor,
but no more cameras, please.
I am a man of anoraks
not formal coats (high class);
I'll chew my plums and pay less tax,
my arse upon the grass.
