Being a ‘flarf’ poem constructed out of snippets of the always hilarious Mancunion Politics section.

A question to Uncle Geoffrey about his strong capitalist avocations,

Frankly antediluvian,

First hand and undeniable,

Some form of Dickensian delusion and inequality between men and women,

A simplistic form of recreation, a joyful pastime,

His hand carved ruby encrusted pram.

***

Once, they called her ‘Gucci Helle’,

My own grammatical snobbery is something much more serious,

Ranging from the conversion of the Anglo-Saxons to the observation of the Second World War,

Progression (and I use that term very lucidly)

My prose has been largely consisted of a hard line against student voter apathy,

So why the vicarious void within our sporting journalism?

***

Oh Ipod generation, your beings ever ready to gorge on the carcass of historicism,

To look to the future, to be so effortlessly cool, so modernly ironic,

Devil’s advocate would purport that you have lost your way,

Meandering down this weary path of self righteousness,

Would Labour return to its Clause IV semi-socialist origins?

***

Now the City of Manchester is rather unlike many other large metropolises of delight.

In this very middle class construction of life that University has presented us,

We are engulfed within a scholastic goal of academia,

Ikea bean bags, ‘Nestle’ and ‘Coca Cola’ (don’t even get me started…)

I want to dance blissfully down the parquet halls of democracy,

I feel cheated.

***

The reason I failed my degree was fundamentally because one of the top Red Brick Universities in the country had turned its once prestigious library into a bloody crèche,

Perhaps proportional representation is not the answer. But maybe, just maybe, it is.