Bog Off, Boris!

‘Stay at home’, he said,

‘Only go out for essentials,

Food and medicines’. 

A clueless deluded clod’s in charge here,

And meanwhile the majority muddles on. 

So until you know what you’re preaching about,

That minor detail about how we all live,

Just bog off, Boris!

My house is small enough

To fit inside a utility room at No 10,

But I’m one of the lucky ones,

It’s a whole lot bigger than some

And I even have a bit of outside space too.

So c’mon Boris, do tell!

How, exactly, are we supposed to keep our distance

From our own, and others?

Most of us are home right now,

Vacuum-packed-like

Into our tiny dwellings,

Day in, day out,

Night after endless night.

But you don’t see that, do you?

Or want to, more like.

You and your Tory cronies,

Elite and privileged,

You’re safer than most in your ivory towers.

So until you’ve experienced

The enlightenment of reality,

Just bog off, Boris!

What about if I step out front?

Get a breath of fresh air,

Spend some time in the garden, like.

Well, it’s a full glorious 9 square metres,

Including path, hedge and borders, of course.

Neighbours on both sides,

Traffic, rampaging runts and pedestrians

Pacing the street behind my hedge,

A mere 2 metre distance max.

But that’s ok, isn’t it?

That’s within the minimum limit, just,

Isn’t it, Boris?

Or how about if I step out back,

Into the shared yard?

Runs full length of the street, it does,

Backed onto by every back door

Of two parallel terraced streets.

36 houses in all

And multiple inhabitants.

Washing lines and wheelie bins,

Sheds to soak up the overflow of ‘stuff’,

Excess calories of lives

Our tall and skinny houses can’t absorb.

Kids seem to have spawned,

Shrieking as they race

The length and breadth of the yard,

Neighbours dutifully seated

Outside their own doorsteps,

Hollerin’ at one another

In vain attempts to be heard over the din

Whilst women clack on and cackle,

Sharing gossip as they peg, bend

And hoist lines high.

Post and delivery people join the fray,

Relatives, carers, or just random wanderers,

So it’s cluttered up good an’ proper out there,

And enhanced by unprecedented noise levels,

Loitering and lingering encouraged not enforced.

They’re all out there,

In my back yard.

And they’re all so close,

No ‘my home is my castle’ reassurance here,

No ‘social distancing’ possible,

No space to breathe

As we’re forcibly squished and squeezed

Into the overspill of other people’s lives.

‘We’re all in this together’

Yep, you sure got that bit right,

But it’s all too little too late.

Any more pearls you’d like to share, Boris?

27-03-2020

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License

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