Confused


Dear sir or madam,

I don’t normally write to the press,

But the neighborhood where I grew up

Is really quite depressed.

Society is crumbling

But the media’s obsessed

With boobs, bums,

Dot-com millionaires,

Fame fashion, FTSE shares.

People, people,

They couldn’t care less.

The burglars have ransacked

All the houses in the street,

While Mercs and Porches

Double-park with sheer impunity.

When towed away the ponces

Plead to all and sundry:

“Referee, what about me?”

So forgive my lack of confidence

And total low esteem,

But the dog-eat-dog society

Has deemed us all has-beens,

While our smiling bland spin doctors s

Slyly lead us down the track,

To a stab in the back.

—Ray Davies, “Yours Truly Confused, N10,” Thanksgiving Day