Tristan Hazell lives and works in the shadow of the Westway on Portobello Road. What follows is a collection of observations, reviews, social comment, fiction, poetry, art criticism and more. Much of it is fiction and some of it will offend someone somewhere, I hope.

Saturday, April 5, 2014

The Notting Hill Gnomes.

The bankers are down in their bunkers
the rest of the countries gone broke
the bankers are lining their pockets
and
lining their noses with coke.

Their staff are all paid
minimum wage
trophy wives are all of the rage
the kids are all spoiled
the wheels are well oiled
the hands are not soiled

And they are fucking the aupair to boot.

And daddy, nothing rhymes with fucking the aupair except alimony!



OR:

The bankers are down in their bunkers
hunkered over money and coke
the poor are UP in their attics
laughing while being quite broke
celebrating the freedom of poverty
and the opportunity to think
of things other than money
and how the working class stink.



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