Poetry Thursday 8 - More sh*t

 Apt during the Tory talking shop even though I published this a few months ago.

Public Services

 

Sorry about the sh*t in the sea,

it’s not our fault in the end,

so please don’t shout at me,

I just have to double dividend.

 

Don’t worry we’re fixing the problem,

we’ll pour more money to the ill,

it’ll cost billions every annum,

all on the consumers’ bill.

 

Toothache is a proper pain,

and not a dentist in sight,

tie tooth to door handle and strain,

let casualty repair my plight,

 

No doctors or nurses on duty,

settle down to wait out the night,

then apprentices of differing ability,

will sort out your damaged bite.

Attacked by a rabid offender,

officers are subsequently called,

eventually a gradual responder

arrests, and the miscreant is jailed.

 

Don’t hold your breath for adjudication,

four years is common waiting time,

the courts may provide remuneration,

but you could be well past your prime.

 

So you think an holiday is called for,

but your passport is out-of-date,

by the time it drops through your door,

your out of pocket and far too late.

 

Yet we English plod on stoically,

after thirteen years of misrule,

accepting rubbish pathetically,

happy to play the Tories fool.

And now companies are feeling guilty,

promising to mend their greedy ways,

planning to work more efficiently,

as long as the ordinary consumer pays.

© David L Atkinson October 2023 

God Bless