Slough

With sincere apologies to the late Sir John Betjeman and family, upon the news that he apparently regretted writing that Slough should be bombed.

Come come, you bombs, don't fall on Slough
I didn't really mean it now!
At least you don't have phoney cows
Like Milton Keynes

Come bombs and from your course allay
From smashing up the bright café
Fried egg, fried meat and all the way
To refried beans

Don't mess the streets of this new town
By throwing nasty litter down
A CSO will see you fined
For fifty quid

And see the child with double chin
For whom the ASBO's rolling in
And hoody's like a second skin
A darling kid

So flush the 'nabis down the loo
And shake the hands, so used to screw
The Vespa, Zip and Typhoon too
Then burn them out

But spare the kids on ABCs
They've only one GCSE
(tho' that was in an -ology,
Which carries clout)

It's not their fault they're bloody fools
As no-one told them, -Go to school,
Or learning's fun and learning's cool
They didn't know

And talk of drugs and stealing cars
And fighting outside crappy bars
And what the bloody hell are stars?
From TV shows??

In Council-paid-for homes, with care
Their teenage mothers bleach their hair
And teach their kids to smoke and swear
And scream and bawl

Come come, you bombs, don't fall on Slough
Just stay a while - I'll tell you how
The cabbages are running, now,
The City Hall

Copyright PC Bitseach.