IDS IBS

I’ve been away. Sorry.

Before I went, I had the chance to take down the government but I failed you. I had the opportunity to throw in the Con-Dem government’s face their hypocrisy, wrongness and general disregard for the welfare of their loyal subjects. I failed you.

I’m at the BBC, recording my poem for Asian Network (not saved- screw you middle class 6Music fans). I’ve timed this to perfection. I’ll be in the studio, record for 15 minutes and be at my dayjob desk in time for the first coffee run. BOOM. I’m sat outside the studio waiting. Waiting waiting waiting. After 20 minutes of uncomfortable shifting, I notice who’s in the studio ahead of me, overrunning. It’s Iain Duncan Smith, secretary of state for Work and Pensions, ironically making me late for my work (and ergo my pension). I think, I’m gonna say something. I’m going to destroy him. I’m going to kill him. I’m going to make him feel so guilty and disgusted with himself he goes to work and says ‘Boys, I’ve seen the light, we should call it a day.’ I think of a stinger, a zinger, a pain-bringer. I get it, I workshop it in my head. I search for the qualifier- is he blud, bruv, cuz, bredrin, geeza, chief or mate. I opt for mate.

He finishes… 30 minutes late. He walks out and asks his assistant how that went.

I look at him, catch his eye and look at my watch, holding it up to him – this is my freaking moment people, my glorious, political, revolutionary moment – and I say… ‘Took your time, MATE.’ He shakes his head slightly and walks off.

I walk in feeling amazing then I realise. That was SHIT. That was SO rubbish. ‘Took your time, MATE’??? That’s rubbish. Even ‘Took your time, COCK’ would have been better. Even ‘Took your time, now time to kill yourself you Tory prick’ would have been better. But a sarcastic nothing like ‘Took your time’ followed by a sarcastic ‘MATE’ – that’s pretty rubbish.

I’m embarrassed.

But you wouldn’t have said anything at all now, would you?

I hang my head in shame.

Next: exciting news about our exciting Coconut Unlimited release party. You can come.

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Filed under journal, weird Britain

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