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Am I Bovvered?

By Robin Tulley

I’ve passed through that street, since I was a lad
Seen distinct changes, some good, and some bad,
Chavs with their Beckhams like Peacocks display
The decreed latest fashions from Hello and OK.
Graffiti adorns the hoardings and walls
An artistic statement free expression rules,
A tatty old sofa, an outdated TV
Fly tippers rubbish just dumped wilfully.
Wheelie Bins lined up, it gives the street ‘cred’
Trundled out for collection, before going to bed,
‘Global warming‘, now more than mere words
Bin bags, recycling boxes; rich pickings for birds.
If you’re old, infirm, gullible or short-sighted
Dodging the ‘chuggers’ is not for the faint hearted,
Shop till you drop why not, twenty four seven?
And get your bar coding fix in retail heaven.
Underage drinking; that’s a cool thing to do?
It get’s our youth ‘high’ and, the stores profit too,
‘Hoodies’ earn an ASBO and flaunt it with pride
They give up the ‘finger‘, and authority deride,
They all ‘carry’ now it’s the ‘in thing’ to do
Show bottle and wield one; belong to a ‘crew’.
“Ere mate do yer want some it’s all top end gear?
Ave a snort for a fiver, you’ve nothing to fear!”
Enliven the environment, with planters and trees?
Forget it, they get vandalised with moronic ease.
But you can’t take issue with “The Big Issue” seller
He’s earning a living, though a down and out feller,
The street’s now much changed, it’s quite perverse
They call it progress; could it get any worse?
If it could it would speak of times locked in the past
Fleeting fragments of life destined never to last.