It's National Poetry Day - so here's a poem about how we have screwed everything up...
Thursday, 6 October 2016
It's National Poetry Day, the Party Conference season, Brexit will be triggered in March, Sterling has collapsed to an all time low. Haven't we done well? Here's a poem about Baby Boomers' legacy...
Thank You, Baby Boomers
There’s a group that suffers from rumours
And deserve our condemnation:
They’re called the Baby Boomers -
The Most Selfish Generation.
So just who are this greedy lot?
They’re your Grandpa, they’re your Nan,
And, if a late starter, it’s your Dad,
Because he’s an older man.
They were born after World War II
(After Nineteen Forty Five),
From then up to the Sixties
To round about ’65.
They lived in what’s called a ‘golden age’,
They’d never had it so good.
They never fought in a Great War;
Had the ideal childhood.
Their teens were the ‘60’s and ’70’s
It was all a haze of smoke.
Their cigarettes were Lebanese,
They taught the world to sing with a Coke.
Then they went to University
Paid for on a full grant.
They knew nothing of adversity.
They were left a few grand by some Aunt.
Their first job was in advertising
(At Uni they’d done Journalism).
The interview was a rubber stamp,
Their Dad knew the boss. Nepotism.
Then they got on the property ladder:
A first flat with a generous mortgage.
No snakes in this game, no poisonous adder,
Always gains and never a shortage.
Then maybe get married, and then have a kid.
This nice flat will no longer suffice.
“We’ll sell it and move to a much bigger place -
Oh look, it’s doubled in price!”
So what did they have, these ‘wunderkinds’?
NHS and North Sea Oil;
They were sent all sorts of favourable winds,
Any poo just enriched the soil.
They lived in consumer wonderland
Had long holidays, wider travel.
The Continent replaced Sunderland,
Their driveways were covered in gravel.
This was the era of invention,
They put a man upon the moon.
At home they bought a dishwasher
To wash 3 sizes of spoon.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
You look back and become sentimental.
The truth is inconvenient:
Your damage went environmental.
Don’t expect us to be lenient.
So you lived a life of plenty
In relative ecstasy.
The Luxury Cognoscenti.
So what now is your legacy?
Unlike you we pay for our Unis,
U turned on us - Tuition Fees!
We now basically take out a mortgage
Just to get our measly degrees.
Then we look for gainful employment,
Find the market is like the slave trade.
And much to our enjoyment
Become interns even though it’s unpaid.
And, you stopped building houses
The votes from the NIMBYs were carried.
So we live in a bedsit with spouses,
Though we can’t afford to get married.
And Lord help us if we are sick,
Get a tumour so big our pants split.
As the greedy and needy who got rich quick
Had the NHS finance it.
You bought property from your vast probate.
Bought to let and ripped off your lodgers.
Then diddled the tax due from your estate;
You don’t need a yacht to be dodgers.
And you lot will live forever,
No stress or hypertension.
The ultimate ‘whatever’
With your gold plated, inflated pension.
You’re off on your cruises, in your upgraded classes,
Inheritance spending’s not hard.
We’re thankful our taxes pay your bus passes;
The world is your Oyster Card.
Then, as if that wasn’t enough,
From the era that has all and wrecks it
You decide that it’s really too good for us
And vote in favour of Brexit.
So what becomes of Generation Z
Or, as we’re sometimes called, iGen?
You lived in clover, we’ve got your hangover,
We’re poorer than you were at 10.
But you’ve set us an example,
You had it all and blew it.
We agree that we’ve learned, if my friends are a sample,
Just exactly how NOT to do it.
So now we’ll work to clean up your mess,
There’s a truth that we’ve learned to believe.
The Me, Me, Me ethos will be buried with you.
It’s better to give than receive.
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