Gammon Land

Gammon Land

This is the Age of Anger

of arteriosclerosis, of salted butter and caffeine.

 Of drowning your sorrows, of too many lends and not enough borrows.

Trump is a bluffer, he bluffed about the wall,

 about North Korea and now about arming teachers.

 He knows the importance of talking a good game,
 it's just a shame that he is the one holding up the mirror to our own mortality.

Sickos! I laugh every time I hear that word. 

How long would he last on skid row I wonder?

Over this side of the pond in Gammon Land,

 it's Rule Britannia, we are going to trade with you me old China,

but the Far East has other plans.

We are still reeling from the freezing!

How many actually wish it really is the end days so we can have done with it?

This is the Age of Anxiety

Mental Health is now big news, all our chimneys need new flues!

We are carrying round the whips and chains of a selfish society but instead of beating others we beat ourselves. 

It is more socially acceptable to be depressed because you can get a tab for that,
 a little something to take the edge off. 

Beating others means you go to prison and they are overcrowded. 

So you stay in a cell of your own making and government and taxes keep taking and taking.

Folks want answers but there aren't any, only more questions.

You are the planet and the family your satellites.

 They think that you are their rock 

but the last thing you want is for them to dock in your moon base. 

You have to save face.

The fabric of society was built on slavery and Boris and Mogg are spinning a fog,

like the London Pea-Soupers of the 1950s when people couldn't find their way home. 

They were holding on to walls and this is what the Toffia want,

 for the Proles to eulogise Etonians at the expense of Romanians.

Ice caps are shrinking

 and Polar Bears are drowning

 and Daddy's frowning

 trying to decide which gas guzzler to buy next.

Scrappage Schemes and Hen Parties

Shopping Channels and Cricketing Flannels.

"Come on old boy, make your way to the crease, buck up your ideas, 

there's a wedding in May and we want you all to share our special day."

This is the age of the poor but it should be the age of Civil War.