WHY SHOULD I CARE?

WHY SHOULD I CARE?

It's square, it's there, why should I care? It's taken o'er our
life
It talks to us incessantly, and moreso than the wife
It is the familys ruler; just a box, but Godly status
Our minds are now just vegetables; our bodies couch potatoes

It's grown since its arrival, added dishes and remotes
Gone digital, with cine-sound; it cleans itself with "soaps"
It's interactive more than us; we very rarely speak
The budgie thinks we're furniture, and pecks us with his beak

We used to have a family life; but now we've just a screen
We live within a great cocoon of muti-coloured themes
My daughter spoke the other night; the hamster had a fit
He thought she was inaminate, and bit her bottom lip

We updated to widescreen; it was the latest craze
But still the wife, dissatisfied; demanded double glazed
We've now two hundred channels, still the woman feels denied
For due to poor reception, she's no "Chanel No 5"

At times when we've had power cuts, we've even gone to Curry's
Took sandwiches, a flask of tea; and got there in a hurry
Through plate glass we've watched "Neighbours", on one hundred screens
a time
In a kaleidoscopic dream, we found our house at half past nine

We've portables in every room; like eyes of changing colour
Their father's in the living room, his wide face though much
fuller
We have one in the bathroom; it's head high upon a shelf
I've squirted it with shaving cream, and shaved somebody else

Maybe we all need therapy; we've reached a stage I've feared
The baby tried to suckle, as Madonna's breast appeared
But the killer of it all; the one that got me in a lather
Was when my teenage daughter thought; Keith Chegwin was her
father

I've tried a cross, a stake; I've drilled it with my Black and
Decker
But every morning they come down, and bow to it like Mecca
That monster like an evil drug's devoured the best in life
I'm cured but wish, that I still had; two daughters and a wife

DAVID SMALL