Clean Young Englishman

Clean Young Englishman

Bring us your dirty old men
and we will sanitise them
until they are fit to be Englishmen
and not the disgraces
they have become.

Let them sleep in our procrustean bed;
no more will they be embarrassingly
different. No more will they write
incomprehensible booby toxin. They
will sell mortgages
as normal people do.

We will give them kilovolt crit to
the creative centres of their brains
until they agree to...
Until they can't...
Until...

See the result? Here's one we made
earlier. Isn't he clean? Ask him a
question. He knows longest rivers
and interest rates. He could be
famous on the telly.

Is that a tear in his eye? What an
extraordinary question. Remember
the song? It's just a little smoke.
Which he doesn't, incidentally.

We are proud of our creations. They
only dribble a little. Soon remedied
with an absorbent tissue. They are
quiet and hygienic. Every home
should have one.

Please come away from that one. The
process isn't yet perfect. We still
have the odd failure. Yes, I believe
it is a poem, if you can call it that.

He will insist on writing.