A Satire in Heroic Couplet

By Richard Craven

Gent.

Book 1

The Proposition, the Invocation, and the Inscription. Then the original of the great Republic of Wokeness, disclosed as the eponymous Demon slumbering in a shallow lake of her own filth, until awoken by the advent of a plague of oriental provenance, although whether ÔÇÖtwas of NatureÔÇÖs making or ManÔÇÖs artifice is moot. Then the poem hastes into the midst of things, presenting Wokeness revolving the succession of her spawn and the changes to be wrought. The moveable College of the Goddess Wokeness, first at a renowned school of the liberal arts, then at Berkeley and Paris, in particular her Philosophers Ms. Butler the doyenne of illiteracy and Mr Foucault the pederast, and finally at Albion her hot house for scholars, rioters, vandals, Maoists, snowflakes, baiters of Hebrews, and the genuflecting kickers of bladdered gas. Wokeness fixes her eye on Master O___ J____, a scholar of Oxon, to be the Instrument of that great event which is the Subject of the poem. He is described prostrated upon a bed of woke books, atoning for his Whiteness, bewailing AlbionÔÇÖs vulgar aspirations┬á to independence, and also the fall of the profitless Jeremiah. After demeaning himself all night at fetish roleplay and despairing thereat, he raises an altar of literary classics, and (making first his solemn prayer and declaration) purposes thereon to immolate himself together with all his scribblings in the Guardian. As the pile is kindled, the Goddess, beholding the flame from her seat, flies and puts it out, by casting upon it an inferior poem by Mr Dunthorne. She forthwith reveals herself to Master J____, unfolds her Arts, and initiates him into her Mysteries; announces him Woke Laureate, carries him to Churchill College Cantab, and to the woke luminaries of that place, being Professor G____ and certain of that estimable ladyÔÇÖs colleagues, proclaims him her toyboy, and they rejoice and give thanks, before getting drunk at Formal Hall.

Of new religion, and its hierophants,

Their fluent gibberish and soaking pants;

Of prancing unicorns, iconoclasts,

Of womenÔÇÖs jails filled with male pederasts;

Of educated people burning books,

And TwitterÔÇÖs poison darts and baited hooks;

Of Black Lives Matter thugs attacking Jews;

Of Antifa and of – dear God! – the Trews;

Of these, and people of the alphabet,

And lastly of a Demon and her pet,                                                             10

The chavÔÇÖs defender and the gammonÔÇÖs scourge,

Sing, HeavÔÇÖnly Muse, before I lose the urge!

Back in the day, when speech was unpoliced,

There lurked Wokeness, an atavistic beast

Mired in a slough of her own excrement:

A vile chimera formed from sentiment

Admixed with proud and purblind ignorance,

Unnatural selection, lewd mischance,

Some ill-digested Leninist extracts,

And theory disembarrassed of the facts.                                                     20

Her face was formed from young boysÔÇÖ severed dicks,

A forked tongue spat her ill-considered sick,

Over her brow a blue mohican jagged,

Wings and a tail like punkawallahs wagged,

A gut capacious and surpassing wide,

In which Truth, swallowed whole, had choked and died,

Attached two mantis claws and several feet

Which, facing backwards, tended to retreat.

Her throne usurped by the Enlightenment,

Beyond the civitasÔÇÖs pale, she spent,┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 30

Deprived of fink and fudge and foisted fake

Some decades hibernating on her lake.

One day from Wuhan came a deadly plague

Of portent grim though provenance quite vague:

Some blamed a bat, and others as they list

A pangolin, or else the communists.

The dropsy spread from lung to lung by breath

And caused a nasty cough, and sometimes death.

Flagellants flailed themselves with nettles green

And droned their epithet: ÔÇ£Unclean! Unclean!ÔÇØ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á40

The hospitals filled up with choking souls,

And curfew sirens clanged their ghastly tolls,

Stirred by the clamour of the pestilence,

Wokeness awoke and snarled ÔÇ£this represents

An opportunity! IÔÇÖll now reclaim

By subtle subterfuge my former fame.

From ReasonÔÇÖs body LogicÔÇÖs head IÔÇÖll twist

And leave the corpse for the postmodernists,

Decree that two and two is henceforth five,

UpÔÇÖs down, trueÔÇÖs false, leftÔÇÖs right, and deadÔÇÖs alive.┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 50

IÔÇÖll topple statues and IÔÇÖll loot the malls,

And scribble filth on war memorials,

IÔÇÖll bowdlerise the Holy Decalog,

And smash the windows of the synagogue.

My squads of gents in frocks will go among

The ladiesÔÇÖ cubicles to drop their dung,

And win the prizes in the ladiesÔÇÖ sports,

And stop them meeting to express their thoughts.

My regiments of crazed millennials,

Pumped full of ill-digested testicles,                                                          60

Will all the schools and colleges infest

With specious, canting, spurious protest.

Nor shall the businessman resist my law:

My writ shall run upon the bourseÔÇÖs floor,

and corpÔÇÖrate HR mavens shall bewail

The male, the stale, the hideously pale.ÔÇØ

Wokeness flaps now her pterodactyl wings,

And dislodged faecal fudge around her flings,

Then rises dripping from her rancid sty,

And like a rabid bat takes wing to fly.                                                       70

Her journeyÔÇÖs first unto the USA

Where libÔÇÖral schools the adjective betray:

Here Aristotle languishes in chains,

And hemlock flows through SocratesÔÇÖs veins,

And Russell, Quine, and Frege are forgot,

For Chairman Mao, Heidegger, and Pol Pot.

Alighting first at verdant Evergreen,

Wokeness anointed is their Sovereign Queen,

With regal eye surveys the portal doors

Whereon are writ thÔÇÖinverted Jim Crow Laws:┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 80

The black exalted and the white debased,

Falsehood promoted and the truth effaced.

Behold the gorgeous golden toilet seat

On which enthroned, and drawing up her feet

So Wokeness squats, is crowned, and defecates

While Erinyes exulting masturbate.

Now neither washing claws nor wiping arse,

Wokeness takes wing and flies South business class.

Where BerkeleyÔÇÖs Judith Butler plies her trade,

Her torch of idiocy casts its shade:                                                        90

Gender performativityÔÇÖs her thing,

A stinkpot full of greasy ink which stings.

Let Logos wither now, deprived of light,

And all of Oakland bathe in blackest night.

Watch Butler tie up Sense in tangled rope

Of subclause pendant from embedded scope,

See Preposition yawn over chiasmaÔÇÖs void,

Neologism coined, curdling, and cloyed,

See Sentence butterflied upon the wheel,

And Meaning, drained, in agony congeal,                                            100

Poor Common Sense, imprisoned and ignored,

Naive Intelligence, traduced and bored.

The smiler with the knife under the woke,

Who patronises ordinary folk,

The sugared pill, the blandness and bromide,

The utter bollocks never once defied.

With awful majesty writ on her brow,

The cold sarcastic stare of moody cow,

Wokeness presides over the crazed tumult,

The warped psychotic nonsense of her cult,                                        110

The Jonestown Kool Aid of which sheÔÇÖs the cause,

And chews the libÔÇÖral writhing in her jaws.

She tarries not, but spreads again her wings,

Spangling the welkin with brown stinking things.

This time the demonÔÇÖs course is Eastward set,

Faster than snail but not as quick as jet,

OÔÇÖer snow-capped mount, oÔÇÖer desert vast and numb,

OÔÇÖer palace, project, piggery and slum:

Terra incognita between the coasts

His ignorance of which the wokist boasts.                                          120

Wokeness now glides over Miami Beach

Where wellness gurus pseudoscience preach

To geriatric dentists and their wives,

Those wan asthmatic martyrs to the hives.

As whale road supercedes the prairie fields,

The nimbus builds and vanquished Helios yields.

Aeolus loosens now his knotted bag,

And the Anemoi from their prison drags.

Mild Zephyr cedes to Boreas the stage,

And Auster vies with Eurus in his rage.                                             130

Zeus flings his bolts and furiously raves,

And Lord PoseidonÔÇÖs trident moils the waves.

Wokeness remorselessly through wind and rain

Grinds oÔÇÖer first Lusitania then Spain,

Where Helios in triumph late restored

Is by his sky-clad acolytes adored,

Then left at Benidorm and up the coast,

Where basting nudists on the playas roast.

Over the Pyrrenees to soaked Camargue,

The hinterland of FranceÔÇÖs nouvelle vague.┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 140

Next Paris, pantheon of po-mo spells,

A shrine to Foucault and to Foucault else:

The Tunis Gary Glitter, Humbert of

Bedouin boy, the freshmanÔÇÖs Nabokov,

White polo-neck, bald head, perverted grin:

Glans penis peeping from its peeled foreskin,

WokenessÔÇÖs Baptist John or Salom├®

Traducer of epistemolog├®.

The demon lingers not, but soon is gone

Across the Manche to faithless Albion.                                             150

Here Wokeness is most gratified to find

A seemingly pervasive loss of mind:

The snowflakes melt, the hipsters lick their toads,

Rhodes scholars vote to topple Cecil Rhodes, 

Watch morons paid to chase the bladdered sphere

First ÔÇ£take the kneeÔÇØ while bored spectators jeer,

See Luddite activists trash GM crops

And BristolÔÇÖs rioters shit on the cops,

The dark imagining sprayed on the walls

Of rampant knob and swollen pock-marked balls,                            160

The colleges prohibiting debate,

The blue-haired Furies, scowling and irate,

The gender benders in the Tavistock,

The children with their puberty be-blocked,

The Jew-baiters in cars on Finchley Road,

The new leftÔÇÖs acolytes of Roderick Spode,

The people, cowed and muzzled in their masks,

Jumping through hoops and doing servile tasks

Who face the sack for saying what they think,

A raised eyebrow, a back turned, or a blink,                                     170

Offence insisted on though never meant,

Nor eÔÇÖer forgiven if they should repent.

Wokeness observes it all, and is well pleased

To see the body politic diseased.

And yet one element eludes her eye,

One piece is missing from the jigsaw lie.

ÔÇ£It wants,ÔÇØ she snarls, ÔÇ£a useful idiot,

Some naive kidult who resents his lot,

Some milquetoast bellend, wet behind the ears

Some thirty summer suckling prone to tears.                                   180

His name is Legion, though, for he is many,

His kindÔÇÖs superfluous and two a penny.

I face a cute embarrassment of choice.ÔÇØ

Just then is heard a chafing, peevish voice,

The whine of angel fallen into Hell,

Not so much ringing as to crack a bell.

Wokeness looks down to see who harshly moans

And fixes basilisks on O___ J___.

Half Oxon scholar and half stream of piss

A Gaveston unsponsored by Marquis,                                           190

Vile parcel of caught dirt from Shoreditch pub,

A chrysalid which hatched a writhing grub,

A scribe who now the noble chav defends

And gammon now with fierce polemic rends.

Today, quite out of countenance, young J___

For his oppressive whiteness thus atones,

Reclined like Chatterton without his looks

Upon his bed of anti-racist books:

ÔÇÿWhy IÔÇÖll No Longer To Pale Cracker TalkÔÇÖ,

ÔÇÿA Dozen Recipes For Curing PorkÔÇÖ,┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á200

ÔÇÿOn The Fragility Of Mr SnowÔÇÖ,

ÔÇÿLaugh At The Tears Of Mrs WypipoÔÇÖ.

A hundred other tomes haphazard spill

OÔÇÖer unwashed coffee cup and unpaid bill.

While J___, this farouche starveling Jabba Hut

Troubles deaf Heaven with his scuttlebut.

ÔÇ£I mourn,ÔÇØ he lisps, ÔÇ£the gammon Brexit vote,

That suffrage be extended to the scrote,

That sweaty yob in white acrylic socks

Should profane thus the sacred ballot box.                                 210

It seems unreasonable to give a choice

To glottal, estuarine, unlettered voice,

Who disobeys his betters when they scold,

And does the opposite of what heÔÇÖs told.

No more shall Jean-ClaudeÔÇÖs lips on cheek resound

And ToynbeeÔÇÖs Tuscan manse is out-of-bounds.

Who shall serve us our Macchiatos now?

No Slovak ballet dancer. Some fat cow

With mottled flesh bulging from Primark pants,

All blackened teeth and missing consonants.                            220

These lewd Neanderthal Brexit baboons

Should know their place and stay in Wetherspoons.

And thatÔÇÖs not all,ÔÇØ he sobs, ÔÇ£for I lament

Profitless JeremiahÔÇÖs force is spent.

Allotment Cincinnatus in your shed,

To you I sacrifice the sourdough bread.

Yours was the PM-ship, your rightful prize,

Until by Rabbi SacksÔÇÖs devious lies

The stupid gammon and the honest chav,

Who reads his Mirror in his outside lav,                                     230

Are both infected by the Tory pox.

Now buffoon Boris with his flaxen locks,

That dilettantÔÇÖ beyond all vexing vague,

Negotiates the treaties, fights the plague,

And makes unfortunate off-colour jokes

Which donÔÇÖt offend those not already woke,

While Magic Grandpa languishes exiled

And by the profane vulgus much reviled,

For petty things which anyone might do,

Like saying ÔÇÿZionistÔÇÖ and meaning ÔÇÿJewÔÇÖ.ÔÇØ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 240

Now in despair WokenessÔÇÖs paladin,

Fuelled by recourse to hipster wanker gin,

Logs into a lewd fetish role-play site

And there pretends to be a pup all night.

As dawn insinuates its sickly glow

J____ logs off sickened with himself. Now, low

Though be his brow, he still maintains a shelf

A simulacrum of his better self,

On which some literature gathers dust,

Bookended by Karl MarxÔÇÖs scowling bust.┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á250

Though justly famed, on J____ÔÇÖs shelf ignored,

Here languish Lawrence, Joyce, Ford Madox Ford,

Jane Austen, Conrad, Waugh, and Henry James.

ÔÇ£I will decolonise these dead white names,ÔÇØ

Cries J____, ÔÇ£IÔÇÖll build a sacrificial pyre,

And fling myself in suttee on the fire.ÔÇØ

Now Clio sighs and Calliope weeps

While J____ piles all the classics up in heaps.

Some Guardian articles by his own hand

Torn into strips serve as the kindling, and                              260

Some smegma squeezed out by Novara too

Describing how Wall StreetÔÇÖs controlled by Jews,

Serves as accelerant. And lo! The flame!

A tribute to the suffering of BAME.

Wokeness aloft on gentle ZephyrÔÇÖs breeze

Above this bonfire of the vanities,

Looks down in some disquiet at the blaze.

ÔÇ£The fashionÔÇÖs not for sacrifice these days.

What price the Jupiter whose martial boast

Commemorates the burning of the toast?                            270

I want to jerk my puppet on a string,

Not barbecue him like a chicken wing.ÔÇØ

Wokeness in winged dishonour now descends,

Her steps to J____ÔÇÖs bedsit straightway tends,

And finds the conflagration in full blaze.

ÔÇ£The remedy for fireÔÇÖs a nice cheap phrase,

The squalidest epitome of lame

Is what serves best to extinguish a flame,ÔÇØ

So Wokeness roots about for a clich├®,

Some stale quatrain with meter gone astray,                      280

Some rancid ode with meretricious rhyme,

Sifts through Victoriana, beatnik, grime,

Discards McGonagall, Bukowski too,

And finds that Ferlinghetti wonÔÇÖt quite do.

The Staggers moulders in the bedsit bog,

Which J____ peruses when he drops a log.

This more in expectation than in hope

Wokeness scans thereof each abusive trope,

Between its glued-together pages finds

The jizzmop of Joe DunthorneÔÇÖs tiny mind,┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 290

The slimy pus of an inflamed abscess:

ÔÇÿPoem In Which I Practice HappinessÔÇÖ.

What editor would publish this affront,

Of she-hyenaÔÇÖs womb thÔÇÖaborted runt?

Dunthorne ÔÇÿloves pigeons when their claws are stumpsÔÇÖ

And 21 more lines of Forrest Gump.

Apollo groans and crumples up his wreath,

And sage AtheneÔÇÖs rusting spear is sheathed.

ÔÇ£Res ipsa!ÔÇØ Wokeness cries, ÔÇ£the very thing

To extinguish a fire or block a spring.ÔÇØ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 300

Wokeness takes up the mouldy paper sheet

And lays it like some barbecuing meat

Upon the conflagration of great works.

The fire becalmed, young J____ springs up berserk.

ÔÇ£Most noble goddess! My eternal shameÔÇÖs

That my self-immolation in thy nameÔÇÖs

Not worthy in thy eyes. A cis white male

No matter that he does the work must fail.

OppressionÔÇÖs apex is the silent pique,

Where Whiteness must shut up and no more speak.ÔÇØ┬á ┬á 310

Upon him Wokeness now inflicts a smile,

A rictus diabolical and vile.

ÔÇ£Silence is violence, apart from which

My plan is to appoint you as my bitch.

In words of condign dignity, your fate

Is that youÔÇÖll be my first Woke Laureate,

A Faust without the learning, ignorant,

And filled to bursting with my heinous cant.

In online column and on TV screen

YouÔÇÖll broadcast lies, hypocrisy, and spleen,┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 320

Be self-abasementÔÇÖs gurning posterboy,

The MaoistÔÇÖs tool and the race-baiterÔÇÖs toy,

Wash sweaty feet of righteous leukophobe,

And learn to love your daily rectal probe,

Your sure reward an ill-starred fame, which we

Call by the mystic name ÔÇÿCelebrityÔÇÖ.ÔÇØ

Enraptured, writhing like Uriah Heap,

As crystal stream from pants begins to seep,

Young J____ ecstatic cries, ÔÇ£IÔÇÖll be your boy,

All waxed and oiled for care bears to enjoy,                  330

And when the work begins to seem too hard

Bathe in the ocean of my self-regard.ÔÇØ

Wokeness next flourishes a document.

ÔÇ£Behold: the contract which I now present

Which specifies the duties of your roles

Uniting in this project both our souls.ÔÇØ

J____ takes his pen and sits down at his desk,

Repudiates in cursive Arabesque

All rights, all appanages, and his fee,

And his pretensions to integrity.                                    340

ÔÇ£And now,ÔÇØ says Wokeness, ÔÇ£mount upon my back.

YouÔÇÖll find some jagged ridges and raw cracks,

Encrusted with Swarfega and Deep Heat.

Insert your hands, and grip with knees and feet.ÔÇØ

J____ jumps aboard and Wokeness flaps her wings,

And ÔÇ£Doors to manual!ÔÇØ in falsetto sings.

Out through the bedsit window squeezed like pus,

Bed-wetting melt and demon venomous,

OÔÇÖer verdant meadows, pastures green and gay,

OÔÇÖer retail park and busy motorway,┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 350

At length the concrete and the asphalt yields

To serried ranks of cabbages in fields,

And these in turn cede to the dreaming spires.

J____ the Obscure with galvanised blood wires

Cries out as they touch down in ChurchillÔÇÖs Quad

To see the gathered pantheon of gods:

Professor Gopal, Brahmin demiurge,

Of cringing servant and cowed porter scourge,

Professor Andrews, the woke Brummagem,

Of anti-racist cant crème de la crème,                       360

And Dr Shola Mos-Shogbamimu,

PhD, MBA, and IAQ,

And LLM, MA, and LLB,

Who by acquiring letters came to be

The alphabet chimera, nemesis

Of mansplainer and white supremacist.

To these, the sybils of her facile cult,

Wokeness announces J____ as fateÔÇÖs result,

Frog spawn of dialectic, HegelÔÇÖs toy,

The Karl Marx Brian, her anointed boy.                    370

ÔÇ£Woke Ganymede!ÔÇØ her luminaries cry,

ÔÇ£Your column full of woke philosophy

Will make grown adult shed a bitter tear

And pink-faced gammon choke upon his beer.

Each straight white cis undeconstructed man

Shall be cast out by the woke Taliban.

No curator of Heritage or Trust

Without a rainbow lanyard on her bust.

Let teacher thank us that she now can teach

Without the crushing burden of free speech,           380

And let the scowling huge woad-painted smurf

Expel from academia the TERF.ÔÇØ

Now prating profs update the Twitter hordes

And fling into the air their mortar-boards,

And, wrapped in gown and enveloped in guile,

With research postdocs form a crocodile

Proceeding solemnly to Formal Hall

And the prospect of port postprandial,

Where toasts to the Woke Laureate are drunk

And Fellows fill their Meerschaum pipes with skunk. 390

And now beyond the candelabraÔÇÖs glow

Primordial Nox insinuates a toe.

The porters pick up all the hardcore porn

Composting on the College MasterÔÇÖs lawn,

And jowly Fellows yawning stretch their legs

And drain the Tawny down to its last dregs,

And mouldy Stalinist and Maoist creep

Leave off their quarrel and retire to sleep,

And soon the quad resounds with gurgling snores

Of rat-arsed monomaniacal bores.                             400

Book 2

The Woke Laureate being proclaimed, the solemnity is to be graced with public ceremony. Thither stumble from their beds the acolytes and hierophants of the cult, hastily reassembling their wits following the debauches of the previous evening at Formal Hall. Wokeness is pleased for her disport to propose games – which combine the exercise of crude bodily functions with vicious duplicity. The game of Farting described, with its diverse accidents, in which two scribes of Woke Books Ms. Fudge and Ms. DeRangelo connive and compete, but are overcome when Ms. Sarker the Communist acting at the behest of the Woke Laureate Master J____ ignites the ignis fartuous of that gentleman while he treats a grateful audience to the undoubted bounty of his squealing. The game of Farting being followed by that of Chundering, in which Master J____ outwits Professor ZizekÔÇÖs situationist challenge to basic hygiene by the tactic of an oily emesis; and finally a third game of Burping, in which Master J____ is again blessed with triumph, on this final occasion over the eructations of the tribunes of the plebs Mr Muscle-Royle and Ms. Abottom, which he achieves by dint of belching the Woke Alphabet. A Woke Feast being held to commemorate Master J____ÔÇÖs victory in the Games, in the hour of his triumph the victor and the assembled company are overwhelmed by the keynote speech of the famous antisemite Mr Hitler Livingstone.

In the small hours, with modesty and grace

And lucent glow of pale averted face,

Who else but fair Aurora Columbine

Usurps the screech owl and the saturnine?

What though the old day shrivelled up unshrived

A thing to be endured if not survived?

Banish the spectre of the headless ghost

With Fair Trade coffee and sliced sourdough toast!

Aurora glides in with the morning dew

Broadcasts indulgently oÔÇÖer pavement spew.┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 410

The burglar sighs and homeward softly steals

To smoke his crack and microwave his meals:

Morlock goes down, Eloi comes out to play

In Boden frock of unassuming grey,

And when the early morning refuse crews

Clang dustbin lids, and folk switch on the news,

Now the Woke Twitterfeed cranks into life

And twists again the wound with rusty knife.

Behold the scholars who imbibed too much

And talked of Kristallnacht and leftist Putsch,               420

And shot their mouths and shamefÔÇÖly overslept.

ÔÇÖMongst whom yet earworm Twitterfeed now crept,┬á

Updating them with news of Wokeness Games:

Instead of Honour, prizes are for Shame,

This being most fitting to commemorate

The coronation of Woke Laureate:

For gross abasement – burping, spitting, farts –

While practicing the sophistical arts;

A golden shower poisoning the well,

A bait and switch with an unseemly smell,                    430

Juxtaposition of the choicest mot

With left up lid and brimming chamber p├┤t.

Hungover, forcing down the Andrews Salts

Lamenting yet the absence of John Galt,

And in the grip of unspeakable dread,

Woke Politburo stumbles out of bed.

Oh for a blissful afternoon of pharms,

Free from the panic pipes and woke alarms,

But forced instead into proximity

With thrice cursed spoken woke turd poetry.                440

The first Olympic game is for Best Fart.

Each petomane displays their nether part,

Oh chocolate starfish! Wrinkled petit trou!

Amass the hydrogen, the sulphur too,

And when the buzzer sounds, rectum let rip

With sphincter tightened and with puckered lip,

And each emission rigorously judged:

how long, how loud, how odorous and fudged.

And finally, the scores being totted up,

And gases siphoned off for Thyssen Krupp,                450

And Duckworth Lewis weightings square deployed,

And Preparation H rubbed into ÔÇÖroid,

The victor garlanded on dais stands

With book deals, soothing cream, and krugerrands.

The gameÔÇÖs contestants are a pair of scribes

With all the defects of the Wokeness Tribe:

A sophist by the name of Udder-Fudge,

Typhoid of dialectic, logicÔÇÖs smudge,

Proud author of woke racist anal squeak,

ÔÇ£Why IÔÇÖll No Longer To The Paleface SpeakÔÇØ.┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á460

Her rival is Rabid DeRangelo:

GrifterÔÇÖs feigned piety and face full p├┤,

Paid huge amounts for her ability

To bloviate on white fragility.

Now does each athlete squat and flex, and rub

Her bum with liniment got from a tub.

DeRangelo downs gallons of brown ale,

While Udder-Fudge chews cabbage, prunes, and kale.

A murmur rises up among the crowd

About how many baked beans are allowed.               470

TheyÔÇÖre under orders, and the whistle blows!

Each Grub Street maggot holds her breath, and goes

A puce which wouldnÔÇÖt shame Farrow & Ball.

But neither grub considers this at all,

Turning instead her thoughts to rumbling bowels

And ordering of consonants and vowels.

Rabid is first to bleat but Fudge to fart,

A syncopation of the classic art,

The rich contralto and the alto sax,

Sulphur dioxide and distorted facts.                          480

Oh wrinkled nose, thou slave to pot pourri,

Who from the thunderbox recoils and flees,

Imagine what Nirvana ÔÇÖtis to judge

The rant of Rabid and the fart of Fudge:

Unreason mingled with a bottomÔÇÖs scent.

But RabidÔÇÖs rant and FudgeÔÇÖs fart are spent.

Open at once the door! Switch on the fans!

And stimulate the stunned adrenal glands

Of nodding audience of narcolepts

OÔÇÖerwhelmed by noxious fumes and false precepts. 490

But woe! Hope of deliverance is cursed

As the status quo ante is reversed:

Now RabidÔÇÖs gut expels clouds of methane

And Fudge becomes increasingly inane.

Switch off the fans! Close once again the door!

Choke in the perfume, listen to the bore,

A non-ecstatic mumbling and some gas,

colloid of Zizek suspends Habermas.

And in such vein for hour after hour,

All hope forsook of respite or succour,                      500

First one and then the other swapping roles

Contaminate the air with both their holes,

Until – Gaudeamus! – both wells run dry,

Both natural gas and noisome oratÔÇÖry.

The room, though, has its looming elephant:

Which grifter, which race-baiter, which pissant

Should wear the laurel garland on her brow.

Concerning this, a most unseemly row

Erupts. Some say the farts of Udder-Fudge

Are more melodious, but others judge                       510

The Rabid dirge foremost in speciousness.

The parties rage, prevaricate, digress.

The judges threaten to restage the game

And redistribute the full share of shame.

The audience most forcefully protests.

ÔÇ£Please talk no more of this even in jest.ÔÇØ

Just then is heard a weedling petty voice

Familiar to the ear, though not by choice.

ÔÇ£WhatÔÇÖs missingÔÇÖs thrill, the headiness of risk.

Instead the scowling blue-hairs go ÔÇÿtsk tskÔÇÖ.┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 520

LetÔÇÖs shake things up. LetÔÇÖs push the envelope.

Unleash the Twitter horde to tweet their tropes.ÔÇØ

So said, unbuttoning his sagging drawers,

J____ ÔÇ£takes the kneeÔÇØ, then crouches on all fours.

Ash Sarkar, literally communist,

Grasping a lighter in her girlish fist

Awaits the shouted signal: ÔÇ£Gas girl, quick!ÔÇØ

Guts rumble. ÔÇ£Thar she blows!ÔÇØ The lighterÔÇÖs flicked.

Now from J____ÔÇÖ fissure comes a mighty roar

As of a cataract or rutting boar.                                 530

Greek fire or North Sea gas, no one can tell

Prostrated as they are by the foul smell.

No wind of Satan, nor his foetid breath,

No cellar where an old rat met his death,

Bears a comparison to such disgrace.

All full of puking is that sorry place.

Nor are the ears from punishment exempt:

The bum trombone, lit at the first attempt,

A HandelÔÇÖs Fireworks in cacophone,

Volume intensified and lowered tone;                       540

While J____ on all fours starts a porcine squeal

Piercing enough to make the blood congeal.

Now doth Aeolus inside J____ÔÇÖs arse

Brew up a further helping of the farce.

How very Anglo-Saxon of young J____

To steal JoveÔÇÖs thunder from his awful throne.

New gas expelled, and by nymph Ash enflamed,

Apollo contemplates artÔÇÖs final shame,

While Artemis scornfully blocks her ears,

And Pallas Athene blinks back the tears.                  550

Oh weep, DeRangelo! Udder-Fudge, rage!

J____ÔÇÖ pyrotechnics your conceits upstage.

What lager hath he quaffed, what cabbage munched!

Just think of all the beans on which heÔÇÖs lunched!

A man for smorgasbords in green cafes,

For lentil bakes and spinach canapes,

A connoisseur of figs and fennel juice,

For whom pink rubber tubing has its use.

To cap it all, his squeal of neutered boar

Strips bare amygdala and flays nerves raw.             560

Surrender, Fudge. Give up, DeRangelo.

ThereÔÇÖs no point striving against this Wind Bro.

The ballot papers in, cheered on by tribes

Of partisans, the judges take their bribes.

Watch as they open first the sealed bids:

The Oxbridge place for feckless failson kid,

Courtesy car and Seychelles holiday,

Gold bullion gorgeous on its gleaming tray,

The grace and favour flat with concierge,

Champagne and Kir in Meribel auberge.                 570

A brief hiatus, then the whitened smoke

Provokes another protest by the woke,

Subsumed however by the mounting joy

Of the supporters of the Wokest Boy.

All hail the probiotic bactereme,

Yoga, green tea, and purgative regime

Let white men blush and Tories hiss and tut,

A nice clean mind starts with a nice clean gut.

So triumphs the Woke LaureateÔÇÖs nether mouth

With lambent perfumed flamb├® of deep South.┬á ┬á ┬á 580

Rest not upon your laurels, Ganymede,

The Court is wearied by your rehashed deeds.

A new game is announced, a thing so lame

You see them writhe disgustingly with shame.

No raging Zeus hurls now his bolts of thunder.

Instead sociologists examine chunder,

For daubing canvases with carrot diced,

for puke-stained metaphor, pungently spiced:

The Bridge at Arles in duodenal bile,

The pavement pizza on the Golden Mile.              590

Alongside J____ the sophist raves and gags:

Zizek, in yolk-encrusted beard and rags,

Fount of inanity and spoken spew

And has of what he speaks but little clue,

Dishonest signifying priapist,

Always post-coital and always triste.

See now each athlete munch emetics, bloat,

Each stick his thumbs and fingers down his throat.

Now Zizek contemplates BedeÔÇÖs Book of Turds,

A thing monks made of images and words           600

To stimulate the vomiterÔÇÖs hormones,

An aide memoire disdained by steadfast J____

Who wolfs down puffa fish and ancient eggs,

And barrel scrape and maggoty old dregs,

While Zizek on his own lungÔÇÖs mucus dines,

And cheap cocaine and vinegary wines.

TheyÔÇÖre under starters orders, and theyÔÇÖre off!

ZizekÔÇÖs first gambit is a hacking cough,

A rumblingÔÇÖs heard as of church organÔÇÖs swell,

Poor tortured bronchioles enduring Hell.               610

Now Slavoj wipes off snot with t-shirt sleeve,

And spittle squirts like water through a sieve.

Poor J____ begins to look a mottled green,

While SlavojÔÇÖs gone completely tangerine.

WhoÔÇÖll be the first to prostitute the truth,

Vomit on verity, corrupt the youth?

Professor Zizek is the first to speak,

A veritable smorgasbord which reeks

Of fallacy and sophistical cant,

Delivered with a lamentable want                         620

Of etiquette: with back of hand, he smears

His greasy locks behind his waxy ears,

Burps up a specious, inane apophthegm.

Pursued by some hastily swallowed phlegm.

No more emetic spectacle than this:

The trouser front stained with its patch of piss

The drool that glistens on the unwashed shirt,

The fingers crusted with the grimy dirt.

Now, as he hearkens to the hypocrite,

Woke Ganymede – the ghastly little shit –┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 630

Assumes the glassy stare of manse gargoyle,

And starts to vomit up a kind of oil.

No spermaceti this, no Ambrose curd,

Instead a ruptured sac reeking of turd;

Beige semolina from a ripened cyst,

Jettisoned bronchiole of Communist,

DiscourseÔÇÖs clog, the fallacy in re,

The black and white dissolving into grey.

What cometÔÇÖs flight, what psychedelic drug,

What SybilÔÇÖs croak or tea-leaves in a mug,┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á640

Foretold this thing that ought not to have been,

Hallucination born of fevered spleen.

To chambers with the judges for their lunch

to nibble Stilton and sip Pimms fruit punch,

There to determine who deserves the prize,

Spewed the most nauseating calumnies.

Some advocate ZizekÔÇÖs apologism

For RobespierreÔÇÖs Terror and for Stalinism.

While J____ÔÇÖs herringÔÇÖs redness wins acclaim

Among the grifters speaking for the BAME.          650

Now once again sleek lobbyists arrive,

Form factions, haunt the corridors, connive.

Scraped is the barrel now for all its pork,

Geldings are traded in a slough of talk.

Gifts are exchanged, goodwill intangible,

Flash of gold Rolex and white mandible.

After the pleasures of this interlude,

And breaking wind – since not to would be rude –

The chief judge now resumes his awful throne

And, in his typically abject tone                             660

Of whimper flatulent instead of thunder,

Announces who has won the prize for chunder.

This is, wonderful to relate, young J____.

Now see the woke kids order buzzing drones

To bring organic champagne, gluten-free.

And blue-hair scolds snarling triumphantly.

Now see twice-garlanded woke athlete J____,

Crowned with the ceremonial traffic cones,

His purple nylon robes all vomit-flecked,

The plastic toilet seat slung round his neck,         670

Accept the adoration of the crowd:

Formal congrats from GlastonbÔÇÖry and Stroud,

Homage of delegates from Oregon,

And eminences grey of Islington.

J____ on his dais simpers like a gimp

Freed from its box by an indulgent pimp.

WhoÔÇÖd not swap places with him for this hour,

The heady psychopathy of woke power?

If Conscience in his ear whispers her ruth,

His narcissism trumps her with his truth               680

Yet all his celebrationÔÇÖs premature.

A proclamation cuts through the manure:

That Wokeness honoured be with one more game,

Of burping like a bullfrog with no shame.

GarlicÔÇÖs repeat, metempsychosis, fate:

Who will step up and dauntless eructate?

What lunatic escaping from his shrink

Will gulp the air and glug the fizzy drink?

A brace of politicians volunteer:

Voyde Muscle-Royle, CamptownÔÇÖs gay dalek. Hear┬á ┬á 690

The grim metallic rasping of his speech:

YouÔÇÖd think the Klingon Marxist gargled bleach.

Abottom in her trademark two left shoes,

Fresh from her latest car crash interviews

With glacial stare and diction tortoise-slow,

Painstaking  emphasis  just  so  you  know.

Now shall each athlete swallow diet coke,

Force down legumes, on green bell peppers choke.

Now shall each genÔÇÖrously upholstered rump

Be introduced through tubes to cycle pump.              700

Oh let them quaff their Perrier and ale,

Chomp ripened figs, and prunes gone slightly stale,

The beaded bubbles winking at the brim,

The distillation of the sweaty gym.

The judge tosses the coin up in the air,

And Voyde goes first, and offers up a prayer

That Hesper might blow from his gastric bag.

On final mouthful of San Pell he gags,

Swallows a metric ton of heated air,

And bloated like a toad begins to blare.                    710

Instead of Hesper, what satanic gale,

What prison stink now breaks out of its jail,

What reek of corpse exploding with a squelch.

Speak not of the sound of the dalekÔÇÖs belch,

Death rattle of embittered communist,

Woke phalangist saluting with limp fist.

That metal gauntlet down the blackboard pulled,

Disgusting gurgle of the sleeperÔÇÖs drool,

DonÔÇÖt mention seagulls shrieking, nuclear trains,

Heavy artillery or bad migraines.                               720

The impudence of BrightonÔÇÖs flame-haired twerp!

Abottom for Stoke Newington must burp!

She pondÔÇÖrously about her business goes,

With oxygen arriving chilled at nose

Heated by engines in stupendous gut,

great tub of acid mixed with scuttlebut.

At length, Abottom with her Gorgon stare

Begins the broadcast of her hot stale air.

Now shall the dryads vanish and the nymphs all flee

From her drawn out and grim prolixity,                       730

And those who stay and listen to her moan

Shall doze, and as they slumber turn to stone.

But nowÔÇÖs the turn of the Woke Laureate;

Watch as he gulps the fizzing carbonate,

Pours the libation of stale orange juice

Down Halitosis Lane into red sluice,

Seizes a canister of compressed air,

Puts tube to lips and offers up a prayer.

Now with a mighty squeal Squealer inflates

Beyond all Health & Safety estimates,                       740

Woke Laureate becomes Woke Zeppelin,

Kim Jong UnÔÇÖs clone, AbottomÔÇÖs bigger twin.

So lend your ears as the Woke Laureate

Belches the whole of the Woke AlphabetÔÇØ.

Now, mark you this, our friend the ABC

Falls foul of modern sensitivity,

In J____ÔÇÖs version ÔÇ£LÔÇØ comes first, then ÔÇ£GÔÇØ,

Punctiliously trailed by ÔÇ£BÔÇØ and ÔÇ£TÔÇØ.

Then ÔÇ£QUERTYÔÇØ, and soon after ÔÇ£UIOP,ÔÇØ

And lest we dare to hope that he might stop,              750

ÔÇ£Two spirit,ÔÇØ and further proclivities

Confided to us by his gastric breeze.

DalekÔÇÖs dumbstruck, Abottom stands amazed.

Both sing of the Woke Alphabet the praise.

ÔÇ£Who could with good integrity compete

Against an eructation quite so neat?ÔÇØ

So for a third time J____ on dais stands,

An ending happy with relief of hands,

Wokeness approaches bearing bogroll crown,

Skulking abjectly with her ugly frown,                        760

And in conclave with her chief hypocrites,

Opinion-formers, sophists, and halfwits,

Crowns J____ the Champion of the Woke Games.

Rejoice, non-binaries! Exult, ye BAMEÔÇÖs!

Now hoist upon your shoulders Squealer J____,

Bear him in triumph to his awful throne.

And when heÔÇÖs finished with the thunderbox,

Vaccinate him against the Wuhan Pox.

They celebrate the Games with a woke feast.

Abundant kale and artificial yeast.                             770

Macrobiotic yoghurt, Quorn, wheatgerm,

The fruit fly larvae and the writhing worm.

Surplus of rhubarb wine not sold to Krupp,

Warmed for an epoch in a plastic cup;

Vomit-resembling orange lentil dal,

The virtue-signalling beyond banal,

Rye loaf convincing as a concrete slab,

Halloumi gibbeted on its kebab,

Ice cream of hippies boycotting Israel,

All gluten-free is the organic ale.                               780

Dropsical hour arrives for keynote speech

When Hitler Livingstone stands up to preach,

Casual anti-semite of hard left,

Of ill repute but still some cultÔÇÖral heft,

Cringeworthy egotist who drones for hours,

Raising remorselessly his Babel Towers,

Tsunami of concocted stats, bald lies

Confident nasal tones and shifty eyes.

And as he preaches, all the snivÔÇÖling creeps

And Antifa phalangists fall asleep.                            790

And as they slumber still the windbag drones

And even vanquishes our hero J____.

No more unto the victor cede the field,

Now victor doth to filibuster yield,

Until that bitter hour when boringness

Subsumes the boor in his own puddled mess.

And as the horloge tolls, the senses numb,

The blue-haired termagents are stricken dumb.

For all except the odd degenerate,

The gurgle and the snore predominate.                    800

Book 3

Wokeness having whisked away her Pet unto an Airbnb, the latter creature slumbers lulled by the DemonÔÇÖs manure, and presently falls into a revery induced by the perfumes thereof, wherein Mungo Bunghole in the guise of Tiresias is his psychopomp, and sheweth unto him the unwoke shades haunting the Fields of Asphodel. J____ is subjected to the ridicule of these Tophet dwellers, whereupon Ash Sarkar the communist is discovered dwelling in the midst of the Cancelled Souls, and relates unto J____ and Bunghole the sorry tale of how YouTube demonetarized Novara. J____ and the maiden communist lament the falseness of FortuneÔÇÖs Wheel, until they are chided for tarrying by Bunghole, and reminded by that nonbinary personage to continue their inspection of Asphodel, which affordeth them diverse vistoes of the place, including the minor injuries suffered by those intolerable gammon who will insist on booing when their sporting idols ÔÇ£take the kneeÔÇØ, a museum of woke nonsense with a tapestry in it, and also J.K.Rowling and Professor Stock languishing in the Jacuzzi of Tartarus wherein they are tortured by the demons with champagne and canapes but never quite enough thereof. Eventually driven thence by the excoriations of the unwoke, and spurned by Ash Sarkar, literally communist, who decideth to stay unwoke, J____ and Bunghole return to North London and there part company. J____ is presently run to ground by the Woke Hunt and is entertaining the prospect of being quartered by the Maenads with their ÔÇ£poniesÔÇØ, whereupon he awaketh from his reverie and, discovering himself combled in the filth of Wokeness, gives thanks for his deliverance from the vice of unwokeness, and is bid by his mistress to prepare himself for her Triumph.

In heaps the social justice warriors pile,

obliviously snore and self-defile.

Woke Laureate, unseemly little creep 

Lasciviously grinning in his sleep,

Is from that SodomÔÇÖs bourne by Wokeness fetched

To nice Airbnb, with cream walls etched

With unexceptionable hipster porn.

French windows open onto well-kept lawn.

Across the living room spreads Ikea rug.

Stained by the taking of a lot of drugs.                       810

But J____ unconscious of this slumbers on,

woke narcoleptic, woke automaton,

Until on carpet dainty Wokeness squats,

Peppers the territÔÇÖry with petites crottes.

And as J____ breathes in WokenessÔÇÖs perfumes

The fever tormenting his brain resumes.

A spectre visits him inside his dream:

Epiphenomenon of bactereme,

Non-binary and militantly so,

Cat-walk Tiresias with face full pô.                             820

ÔÇ£I am thy psychopomp, Mango Bunghole.

By intersection I waylay a soul

Transport by ferry over LetheÔÇÖs flood,

Marooned by Charon on morass of mud.ÔÇØ

ÔÇ£And how yclept,ÔÇØ quoth J____, ÔÇ£this fetid Hell?ÔÇØ

ÔÇ£They call it,ÔÇØ replies Bunghole, ÔÇ£Asphodel,

Where Wokeness sends the ones who just wonÔÇÖt see,

Degenerates who will not ÔÇÿtake the kneeÔÇÖÔÇØ.

ÔÇ£YouÔÇÖre most persuasive,ÔÇØ J____ says, ÔÇ£I am sold.

IÔÇÖll genuflect and do what I am told.┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 830

Please take me as a tourist to this place,

That I may meet the Cancelled face-to-face.ÔÇØ

HellÔÇÖs mouthÔÇÖs a nasty little puckered trou

Wrinkling the riverside near Waterloo

Darkness at noon, forgotten factory,

Lord Archer lives in close proximity:

A backwards place where water uphill runs.

Embark they here, with shop-bought currant buns,

Gifts for the nasty, dirty little sod,

Who doesnÔÇÖt dignify the label ÔÇÿgodÔÇÖ,┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á840

But ubers cancelled souls across the stream

To Kennington and Croydon and East Cheam.

Now Charon gracelessly accepts his tips,

Emits an epithet from jaundiced lips,

Noses Toyota into oozing road,

Diesel particulate, black smoke, grey choad,

To somewhere in the deep benighted South,

With signs for Burgess Hill and then Portsmouth.

They come to a place fairly nondescript,

but not with all nuance completely stripped:              850

Estate of blocks divided into flats,

Each named after some dead aristocrat:

Asphodel Fields, which pleases not nor pains.

J____ pours a can of lager down the drains.

There now materialise the dissidents

Who for their woke transgressions wonÔÇÖt repent:

The stubborn sceptic about equity,

The Sentinel who will not ÔÇ£take the kneeÔÇØ,

The gender-critical philosopher

Who will insist that feels donÔÇÖt make ÔÇ£himÔÇØ ÔÇ£herÔÇØ.┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á860

Schoolgirls there are, lamenting how their sports

Have been usurped by burly blokes in shorts,

See dinosaurs who wonÔÇÖt state their pronouns,

Primitive folk from actual Northern towns,

Comedians deprived of their best jokes,

Conservatives, and ordinary blokes.

J____ mocks these gammon with their pasty skin,

Their whiteness and their golf clubs and their gin,

How quaint and how ridiculous it is,

How horrifyingly pale and all that jizz,                       870

YesterdayÔÇÖs men, by history erased.

Bunghole professes themself stark amazed.

Now doth that scowling fretful blue-hair sing

ÔÇ£Woke Laureate thinks only the right thing,

And by so doing sets himself apart

From common herd, from mainstream, from old fart.ÔÇØ

J____ preens himself anticipating cheers,

Instead meets with profanity and jeers.

The Cancelled sceptical about him crowd.

ÔÇ£Out here beyond the pale, weÔÇÖre still allowed┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á880

To vent our low opinion of your guff.

YouÔÇÖve got away for too long with this stuff

Of truth and logic utterly bereft,

Woke racist moron of the idiot left!ÔÇØ

From all the thronging cancelled one hangs back,

Fizzog familiar of Novara hack,

Of wokedomÔÇÖs acolytes the prettiest:

Ash Sarkar, literally communist.

ÔÇ£Comrade in arms!ÔÇØ cries J____, ÔÇ£soulmate and muse!

The woke computer must have blown a fuse.            890

Doyenne of Blackness, ally of the Queer,

What gross misunderstanding brought you here?

Tell me itÔÇÖs not some tribune of the plebs,

No nasty little quisling Rosa Krebs,

No Woquemada broke you on the rack

For not capitalising the word ÔÇÿblackÔÇÖ.

What arbitrary rule change caught you out?

Whose shibboleth did you unwitting flout?

Which termagant misgendered seethes with rage.

Which martinet scowls at your badinage?ÔÇØ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 900

On J____, the litÔÇÖral communist bestows

The explanation of her present woes.

ÔÇ£Cursed be the tech bro,ÔÇØ sighs the beauteous maid,

ÔÇ£That pusillanimous, top-knotted jade

At whose behest I swinked in servitude,

Scribe of his propaganda vile and crude.

The veriest epitome of woke

Long pickled foul hyperbole IÔÇÖd soak,

Assemble strawmen, burn them down again,

Add sophistries more blatant now and then,              910

The more the merrier, since this displayed

MankindÔÇÖs abasement, plain to himself made,

Curled Ozymandian sneer of cold contempt,

Jackboot OrwellÔÇÖs OÔÇÖBrien fever-dreamt.ÔÇØ

ÔÇ£In service of Wokeness,ÔÇØ says J____, ÔÇ£you toil,

To its absurdest precepts you are loyal

Gaslight with blatant falsity the folk,

Humiliate them with bemerding woke.

Wherefore your exile then with renegades,

These skulkers in the whiter pale of shades?ÔÇØ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á920

The communist responding heaves a sigh.

ÔÇ£No contra-woke transgression roused the spies.

A curse indeed on fickle FortuneÔÇÖs wheel┬á

Which PatreonÔÇÖs favour from poor yes-man steals.

You want the truth plain and anatomised?

YouTube Novara hath demonetized.

I, exiled platformless to blasted heath,

A troglodyte, squashed cockroach underneath,

From wokeÔÇÖs excoriating napalm flee

And learn to exercise parsimony.ÔÇØ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 930

In J____ÔÇÖs breast beats the heart of a simp,

Discreet, helpful, but still annoying gimp.

Of AshÔÇÖs woeful tale being thus apprised,

At once the fountains gush from his pink eyes.

ÔÇ£Fain would I wear thy favours in my cap,

Out of thy haters beat the living crap.

For now I serve thee as thy bounden knight,

Pledged to restore thy name in public sight.

Deliver thee from gaping wokeless Hell,

This tepidly beguiling Asphodel.ÔÇØ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á940

ÔÇ£If I may interrupt,ÔÇØ says Bunghole then,

ÔÇ£The time to rehabilitate herÔÇÖs when

IÔÇÖve finished the performance of my role,

As guide for woke tourist gawping at soul

Of non-conformist sceptic Question Mark

Who ÔÇÿdoesnÔÇÖt like to be kept in the darkÔÇÖÔÇØ.

Bunghole leads them along the winding lane,

Quite pleasant if verging on the inane,

Where those who boo when sportsmen ÔÇ£take the kneeÔÇØ

Live, slightly impeded by injury.                                  950

Here trainer rehabilitates the cripÔÇÖs

Cartilage ruptures and meniscus rips.

Here folk do physio, or lean on crutch,

And some get better, but some not so much

And no longer play football quite as well.

This suburb bears the name of A.C.Hell.

Bunghole leads them beyond the boo-boy slum

Whose beige aesthetic leaves them slightly numb,

Unto a grotto hung about with screens

Framing the art of various has-beens.                        960

ÔÇÿMuseum of DegenÔÇÖrate ArtÔÇÖ is writ

Over the door in font promising wit. 

Statues stand up, defiant in redoubt,

The brawny sinew and the scant breechclout,

Of those for whom tenuous links were found

To Martin Heidegger or Ezra Pound.

SlaversÔÇÖ descendants, cancelled, in bronze glare

At rather pompous but benign Lord Mayor.

Here hangs a tapestry between two doors

Telling the story of the Culture Wars:                          970

The petri dish in the arts faculty,

The trendy vicar in the rectory,

See Weatherman ÔÇÖfore Panther cringe and scrape,

Lancastrian campaign of ethnic rape,

The snide remark directed at the Jew,

The Baader Meinhof and their retinue,

The urine sprayed on gender-criticÔÇÖs door

By activist with pecker held in paw,

The gammon fired because he made a joke

Not cleared by the tribunal of the woke,                      980

Sack of the Citadel, Thermopylae,

UnwokeÔÇÖs damnatio memoriae.

Beyond the gallery a new annex

Almost entirely built from sheet perspex,

Houses a triptych of, first, a parade

Where people dance and drink warm lemonade.

Upon the second panel is depict

Red SUV of moral derelict,

Contact bull-bumpers with live flesh, and screams

Of grannies mangled up with hipster memes.               990

The third panel, J____ is amazed to see,

Depicts his own blatant hypocrisy:

His ÔÇÿLook, a squirrel!ÔÇÖ and His ÔÇÿWhat about ÔǪÔÇÖ,

His insincere raising of spurious doubt.

Now Bunghole leads them on through Asphodel

To where great doors announce WokeÔÇÖs Special Hell,

Reserved for celebs who wonÔÇÖt tow the line,

The author who stepped on the primed woke mine

Saucy comedian, insouciant knave

Who makes us laugh and never two fucks gave,           1000

The footballer who will not ÔÇ£take the kneeÔÇØ,

Conservatives in the Academy.

The three-head pie-dog pacified with treats,

Protesting door on unoiled hinges bleats.

WithinÔÇÖs a spa, hygienic and pristine.

In Charybdis, massaged by jets unseen,

Loll J.K.Rowling and Professor Stock

The latter as yet processing her shock,

And ever and anon woke demons come,

Deaf to entreaty, blind, and stricken dumb,                    1010

With tiny little glasses of champagne,

To ask for more entreats favour in vain:

Bonbons delicious but still minuscule,

The eating of which never made you full.

In the lounge Palin, Gilliam, and Cleese

Avail themselves of thin slices of cheese.

There is in Asphodel a decent pub

Where unwoke congregate for drink and grub,

To sip a pint of unpretentious mild.

Then some go home to waiting wife and child,               1020

While others gather in a cheerful group

To laugh at video played on a loop:

Watch cricket fans in the MCC bar

Throw white bread rolls at cringing Nish Kumar;

The booing of the proles at the New Den

At two and twenty nonplussed kneeling men;

Parents rebelling against CRT

And creeps who just wonÔÇÖt let their children be;

The jeer they canÔÇÖt delete, the viral meme,

The deconstruction of wokeÔÇÖs fever dream.┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 1030

ÔÇ£I worry,ÔÇØ whines Bunghole after a while

ÔÇ£That far from putting the cancelled on trial,

My guided tours expose Wokeness instead.

The toxic Twitter mobÔÇÖs built up its head,

And the fact-checker blood houndÔÇÖs nostrils twitch,

His piercing howl audibly changes pitch.

But he no more bites out the unwoke throat.

Instead itÔÇÖs Wokeness which has got his goat.

Is this a moment? WokeÔÇÖs El Alamein,

When the grown-up with still functioning brain                 1040

Stands up and boldly says enoughÔÇÖs enough,

That heÔÇÖs not tolerating this woke stuff?

But then again,ÔÇØ continues Bunghole, ÔÇ£all

ThatÔÇÖs happened here is immaterial,

Successful money shot, the pie of cream.

Figment of the Woke LaureateÔÇÖs wet dream.ÔÇØ

The dreamer pays no mind to this remark,

But stumbles through a region not too dark,

Whose brigands resident with rapier wits

Slice Wokeness into nasty little bits.                                 1050

J____, Bunghole, Ash: now each the gauntlet runs,

Object of put-down and sadistic pun,

Half village idiot and half posh twat,

The intersection which Wokeness squats at.

Just as witÔÇÖs butchers are grinding their knives

Like US Cavalry, Uber arrives.

Bunghole and J____ climb into the rear seats

And J____ the maiden communist entreats:

ÔÇ£Come back to the left side of the woke pale.

If youÔÇÖve done nothing wrong, concoct a tale.┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 1060

Confess that you did once internalise

The white manÔÇÖs values and priorities.

Promise to do the work, firmly commit

To antiracist training, gender shit,

WhateverÔÇÖs the hot issue of the hour,

Whatever makes the blue hairs tut and glower:

Make that your area of expertise,

Stake your positions at extremities,

And never let the left your lines outflank

With Maoist guile or facile sixth form wank,                     1070

But be more devious and facile too

Your fraud embellish and facade renew.

Back with us and resume your rightful place

With liar, hypocrite, and well-soaped face.ÔÇØ

Demurely now, the maiden communist

Twists off the fingers clamped upon her wrist.

No Amazon with tungsten brassière,

No AfroÔÇÖd gorgon draped in purple flares,

No blue-haired Erinye scowling and grim,

Nor freakish gargoyle from the ladiesÔÇÖ gym,┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á1080

No force-fed suffragette nor bridled scold

Stared back so truculent and icy cold.

ÔÇ£IÔÇÖve had my fill of woke jugend pipsqueaks

and wonÔÇÖt shut up when itÔÇÖs my turn to speak.

IÔÇÖll never more give in and contradict

A patent truth. Arses can stay unlicked.

IÔÇÖll live in exile here in Asphodel

Without wokeÔÇÖs benefits but not in Hell.ÔÇØ

It seems to J____ as Charon drives them back

That in wokeÔÇÖs fabric now appears a crack.┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á1090

Knowledge is power saith The Paedogogue:

Sole truth in all those canards he once flogged.

As, skirting Clapham Common on bald tires,

Charon returns to Hackney both the liars,

There is a certain emptiness between

The psychopomp and the eternal teen.

The traffic halts again its slow advance,

Bunghole makes off without a backward glance

And vanishes into South LondonÔÇÖs streets.

Now J____, ignored by everyone he meets,                   1100

No longer struts his stuff in Tufnell Park,

But sidles from his room well after dark,

Furtively skulks to Kurdish corner shop,

Giving a wide berth to the lounging cops.

And his acquaintances all glance at him

And look away and scurry to the gym.

Now J____ his plaint most prettily doth tell:

ÔÇ£Woe that I bear the stain of Asphodel.

Guilt by association, SalemÔÇÖs stench,

The tempered mercy of Judge JeffreyÔÇÖs bench .┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 1110

Unconscious bias tests, the Twitter mob,

Quick dry cement mortaring gaping gob.

Such is the fate of that most wretched bloke

Who slides back down the greasy pole of woke.ÔÇØ

There chances to be, in the queue behind,

A woke phalangist, pompous and unkind,

An uptight pharisee with syringed ears

Who likes to take offence at what he hears.

Just as the shark, when orca wounds his friend,

Does not to mutuality pretend,                                       1120

Nor scruple entertains about a feast,

But will partake of pancreas at least;

Or much like Saturn eating his own son

– Sliced buttock flash-fried with a wholegrain bun –

The revolution shall devour its own.

Farewell Robespierre, and goodbye O___ J____.

Unleash the mob! Let Twitter grapevine jive!

Let false friends fall away, and frauds connive.

Now J____ emerges furtive from the store,

full bag of groceries hung from each claw.                     1130

At once the cry goes up, the view halloo,

As when AntifaÔÇÖs blackshirts hunt the Jew.

They chase J____ out of Camden and Chalk Farm,

And all Stoke Newington is up in arms.

West Hampstead and Swiss Cottage bar their gates

While Islington acidly deprecates.

ThereÔÇÖs nothing in North London for young J____,

And nobody is answering their phones.

To keep Renard from Kilburn and Cheshunt

They delegate the chase to the Woke Hunt:                  1140

Gimpsuited Maenads in their bright pink coats

In chariots pulled by ÔÇ£poniesÔÇØ fed on oats;

Watch as old man with jowls of giant toad

Is forced to canter up the Edgware Road,

The bridle forcing down his forking tongue

As reaching Maida Vale he busts a lung.

And here the fugitive is run to ground

No Cheyne Walk for him, nor Square of Lowndes.

Instead a nasty dirty little box

Smelling of other peopleÔÇÖs farts and socks.┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 1150

They force him out, the huntsmen with their whips,

By yanking on his hipster buggerÔÇÖs grips.

They shave his hair off with their razors blunt,

Excoriate him as a Tory cunt.

They set a cardboard dunce cap on his skull,

His social credit and his fame annul.

Now ropes to each of his thin limbs are tied,

Attached to ÔÇ£poniesÔÇØ harnessed for a ride.

Whipped by the jockeys in their gimpsuits gowned,

The old men, blinkered, neigh and paw the ground.   1160

The Master of the Hunt bids them to start

Pulling the Laureate of Woke apart.

Now some of us have haply heard it said

That if you dream youÔÇÖre dead, youÔÇÖre really dead.

Then happy Laureate as ropes go taut,

And Maenads in their ecstacy disport,

To feel beneath his cheek the IKEA rug,

To smell the perfume of WokenessÔÇÖs fug,

And hear the buzzing of a billion flies.

He opens now his grime-encrusted eyes,                    1170

Blinks in the sunlight slanting through the glass

And yawning sits upright on bony arse,

And thus discovers, not to mince oneÔÇÖs words,

That he is covered in WokenessÔÇÖs turds.

ÔÇ£I thank thee Goddess,ÔÇØ cries her hierophant,

ÔÇ£That thou seest fit to lower thus thy pants,

And on thy humble servant defecate,

For I have dreamt what destiny awaits

The heretic who will presume to dwell

Cleansed of woke dysentÔÇÖry in Asphodel.ÔÇØ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 1180

Wokeness smiles most becomingly at this.

ÔÇ£I do appreciate a masochist

Returning prodigal from freedomÔÇÖs bourne,

And just in time for the woke Golden Dawn.

For comes the hour when I inspect my troops,

My serried ranks of furries, smurfs, and dupes,

A tepid shower aping a parade,

A motley march, a mincing masquerade.

As Dauphin, yours shall be the central role,

Official mouthpiece, or perhaps arsehole.ÔÇØ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á1190

Now from without the woke AirBnB

There penetrates the din of soldiery:

Shouting of orders and the grind of tanks,

The ceremonial field gun shooting blanks.

Wokeness hands J____ his ceremonial dress:

Beige suit of Mao and jackboots of SS.

See next the demon and her nodding slave

step out onto the balcony and wave,

As down below there shuffles past the throng,

All hideous, all out of step, all wrong.                           1200

Book 4

The monstrous regiment of woke commences its march past in honour of the demon Wokeness and her acolyte O___ J____. The squadrons and companies are described with their sundry peccadillos: the blue-haired smurfs being obese and humourless, the black-clad Antifa behaving as the fascists they purportedly oppose, and Black Lives Matter burning and looting and smiting the Hebrew both hip and thigh; these being followed by phalanxes of eco-loons and Vert Rouge, human resources mavens, bourgeois triumphalists, and then Pride, during the parade of which a bout of intersectional fisticuffs ensues betwixt the activists pretending to speak respectively for the trans and for the gay, lesbian, and bisexual tendances, with the former prevailing in the lists. Afterwards, the march past gradually peters out, becoming more of a straggle past on the part of various unsavoury elements hitching themselves to the woke bandwagon. Presently, following a brief intervention by the Wokeler Jugend, news arrives regarding the depredations of the Muscovites, the which intelligence immediately and entirely undermines the woke movement. The public drifts away from their standards, although a dwindling band of true believers lingers on in the woke bunker or palace of pandemonium. One morning however J____ awakening finds himself alone and, walking through the deserted halls, after encountering WokenessÔÇÖs golden toilet and the allegorical horrors therein, discovers on his throne a letter from the Demon herself informing him of her retirement to her lake of filth. Overcome by her cynicism, J____ laments, but finally adopts new purpose, resolving to return to his bedsit and keep the woke flame alive.

Behold the monstrous regiment of woke,

ScienceÔÇÖs nemesis and butt of joke.

First waddle past the squads of scowling smurfs,

With cardboard signs excoriating TERFs.

The sunlight bounces off each azure scalp

And dandruff glitters like a Switzer alp.

Above white knee socks, fat and dimpled thighs

Betray the sacrifice of untold pies.

Hotpants which emphasise the camel toe,

As AdamÔÇÖs apple does the beardÔÇÖs shadow.┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 1210

OÔÇÖer each fraying belt tremulous blubber juts,

On porcine face the lipsticked gob tut-tuts.

The cheesecloth working shirt with rolled-up sleeves!

The animosity! The petty peeves!

With pondÔÇÖrous tread they stamp upon the ground.

Buildings collapse, and light aircraft are downed.

The birds fall silent and the dead revive,

It isnÔÇÖt bliss that dawn to be alive.

Next marches AntifaÔÇÖs Sturmabteilung,

From lamp posts effigies of Jews are hung.                  1220

Black shirts they wear, and black shorts underneath.

Black are their souls, and equally their teeth.

Pissant pathetic parliament of fools,

The stinking sewage of the public schools,

Tarquin and Henrietta on the slum,

All trust-funded and terminally dumb.

Each wears a skateboard strapped across their chest,

Razors embedded, and a kevlar vest.

With lowered standards dragged through guttered muck,

They show the world how they donÔÇÖt give a fuck:┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á1230

Portraits of Molotov with Ribbentrop,

The Red Flag with the Swastika on top,

Sayings of Mao, diktats of Xi Jin Ping,

The vanguard does its genocidal thing.

Behind on tumbrils prisoners are drawn,

The lumpen proles, objects of Twitter scorn.

The hipsters at their whiteness take the pee,

Joke about rickets and Vitamin D.

Now Black Lives Matter flaunt their camouflage,

And fling their epithets at Nigel FÔÇÖrage,┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á1240

And Jon Snow fainting falls upon the floor;

So many white people he never saw.

They pull down statues and they ÔÇ£take the kneeÔÇØ,

Dismantle whiteness and the family.

On surfaces four-lettered filth they spray

And chase the po-po and the Jews away.

A black conservative in tailored suit

Disturbs the felons as they burn and loot.

They beat him with their skateboards on the head

And with their razors roughly shave his dreads,           1250

And call him ÔÇ£pet niggerÔÇØ and ÔÇ£coconutÔÇØ.

The businesses they burn! The stores they gut!

Maggot on civis, roach horde under fridge,

The botulism in the club sandwich.

And as they march, they hold aloft their texts

and Wokeness wreaks remorseless her effects.

ÔÇÖTis now the turn of the Aquarians,

Vegans or at least vegetarians,

To shuffle past in sandals open-toed

And fill the screen for a brief episode.                          1260

Homeopath, post-fascist charity

Wanting in intellectual clarity,

Hidebound opponent of the microscope

Sworn enemy of bath and bar of soap.

The creepy masseur and the mesmerist,

The slightly rapey male feminist.

Organic farmer and anarcho-trot

Who worship a Swedish child idiot.

Eugenic theory, both the why and how.

Worzel Gummidge reads Thoughts of Chairman Mao.   1270

A special place in HellÔÇÖs for the Vert Rouge

For their cruel primitive subterfuge.

A captive dragged on ropes staggers behind,

Vitamin A-deficient, almost blind.

They taunt him with handfuls of Golden Rice

Dropped in the gutter for the rats and mice.

As these march past odours suffuse the nose

Of the manure in which the poison grows:

The combination of patchouli oil

Leavened with the sour reek of armpit royal,                1280

The cat lady redolent of old tom,

The battle axe with face like Herbert Lom.

In thick wool tights huge women come and go,

Talking of long drop toilets and Osho.

Now forms a suffocating tight phalanx:

Human resources in their serried ranks.

These do not raise, itÔÇÖs true, a farmyard stink,

But reek of satisfaction and groupthink,

And brandish quizzes which pretend to test

ThÔÇÖunconscious bias harboured in the breast,┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 1290

The whiteness baked into the DNA:

Dogma and Derrida, Talcum X, Ch├®.

Let each now cultivate upon her blog

Her paragraph of obfuscating fog,

Bordered in Black, bold and capitalised,

About the concepts sheÔÇÖs conceptualised:

White privilege, the original sin

Of Jaguar, of golf club, and of gin.

The woke bureaucracy is followed by

Bourgeois triumphalists called ÔÇ£GilesÔÇØ and ÔÇ£GuyÔÇØ.┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 1300

Florid and rubicund, portly Hugh Jarse,

Flown in from JFK in business class:

Resplendent in his ceremonial dress,

The wifeÔÇÖs kimono and the floppy tress,

With baseball bat he clubs a passing fox,

While A.C.Grayling with his foghorn mocks

The knuckle-dragging Leaver, fat and white,

Gulping his Stella and Sunny Delight.

The Tuscan villa, the Dordogne farmhouse

Entitle Giles to patronise the Scouse.                           1310

How dare the horny-handed sons of toil

Wipe off his smoothly lubricating oil?

Just stick to hewing wood and digging ditch,

And grumble now and then that lifeÔÇÖs a bitch.

This tribeÔÇÖs succeeded by the tribe of Pride:

Cowboy in leather chaps who sits astride

Pup masked in black and shiny neoprene;

Bear and his twink, waxed smooth and epicene;

The buzzcut butch with stubble on her chin,

The connoisseur of methamphetamine,                        1320

The dominatrix and her cringing simp,

The exhibitionist and hog-tied gimp.

As these march past, a bitter fight breaks out,

Trans sophist brawny against sapphist stout.

Speak not of saintly Nozick nor good Rawls:

Instead prop forwards scrum for shrunken balls.

Transwomen weaponise ÔÇÿthey/themÔÇÖ pronouns,

And Logos in the muddied waters drowns.

The fighting spreads, engulfs the whole parade,

The trans castrated and the cuckold spayed.                1330

Here Lived Experience vanquishes Truth,

Boomer decrepit yields to coxcomb Youth.

Alarum and the screams of the erased,

My Lady mansplained and My Gaylord tazed,

The rampant T batters the LGB,

And gender activists shriek ÔÇ£Me! Me! Me!ÔÇØ

Their personalities stripped of pretence:

Just narcissism of small difference;

No more shall superego restrain id

Upon the apex of wokeÔÇÖs pyramid.┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á1340

Upon the balcony above, Wokeness

And J____ in furry Russian hat and dress,

Gaze down with cold commandÔÇÖs impassive sneer,

Deep frozen Brezhnev, glacial Beria,

Upon the seething, suppurating throng,

The spawn of ideology gone wrong.

Was it for this that HobsbawmÔÇÖs Ganymede,

The Stockport Stalinist, the Oxford weed,

Took up his stinkpot and his feathered plume

And penned in that dank foetid bedsit gloom,                1350

Defence of Chavez and anon of chav?

What broken moral compass, bust Satnav

Beguiled this Eton Mess into his Slough?

Send not to know the wherefore, why, or how.

DonÔÇÖt lift your gaze above the parapet,

Keep staring at your iPhone screen in Pret.

There shuffles hindermost the rotting trunk

Of stale hypocrisy and yellow funk:

The wasted tech bros hooked on hentai porn

The woke zombies, and children of the quorn.               1360

The fact-checkers tied up in string trip past;

The Twitter mob, offended and aghast;

Millennial with really stupid hair,

Fat smirking public sector pensionnaire.

The tall patrician with the Roman nose

And Baader Meinhof t-shirt from Waitrose.

Air-head with gender studies PhD,

A nose ring, and a gluten allergy.

Th’ eternal verities being thus betrayed,

Poor Conscience compromised, traduced, and flayed,    1370

And Soul of its integrity bereft,

The martinetÔÇÖs falsetto shrieks ÔÇ£eyes left!ÔÇØ

Now robot peepers swivel on their stalks,

And fork-tongued sophists polish their TedTalks.

In all this vast and suppurating throng,

This biomass of everything gone wrong

This beating heart of evil, bland, banal,

There lurks a rarer breed of animal,

A not unphotogenic school of youth

Brain-washed, foul-tempered, bracingly uncouth:             1380

The Wokeler Jugend, useful idiots,

WokeÔÇÖs janissaries, eunuchs, clowns, helots.

A kind of uniform marks out the dears:

Cute furry onesies, masks, and rabbit ears,

Mascara whiskers on smooth apple cheeks,

More aggravating than JuvenalÔÇÖs Greeks.

Rancid compound of winsomeness and bile,

Weird union of gormlessness and guile.

Ovid on acid, Kafka on mushrooms,

Fonda and Hopper in the catacombs.                                1390

The Wokeler JugendÔÇÖs function is to shriek,

And to coagulate in spiteful clique,

To form the mortar or the agar base,

To catalyse the mob with well-soaped face,

To infect with Woke Terror every breast.

Now shall the clapter clown anodyne jest

And ghouls laugh bitterly and snap their thumbs,

While gin the faculty of oldster numbs.

The jackboot stamping on the human face

Is multi-coloured with a rainbow lace.                                1400

Wokeness deploys these when she has the urge

To instigate a pogrom or a purge.

These are the kids who root out all the vice:

The old white man who isnÔÇÖt always nice,

Horrific karens from suburban towns,

The renegades who wonÔÇÖt state their pronouns,

Micro-aggression of executive,

The colour-blind who say ÔÇÿlive and let liveÔÇÖ,

Misspoken speech, the thought that goes astray,

Bromide congealing on formica tray.                                  1410

OneÔÇÖs most contemptible of all of these,

The stand-out star of the youth pharisees,

The Wokeness Morozov, Quisling as kid,

Pique twink, the apex of wokeÔÇÖs pyramid,

Apple-cheeked elf, the woke Jimmy Osmond,

The vanguard of Red Terror and Woke Fronde,

A git more aggravant than O___ J____,

WhoÔÇÖd pass as one of that poor throwerÔÇÖs clones.

With beadle eyes he scans the doomscroll feed,

Checking that every allyÔÇÖs up to speed.┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 1420

And this is how he comes to learn the news.

Even in tweets or – God forbid! – the Trews,

With some events you canÔÇÖt equivocate;

When most have mobiles, all are up to date.

Now Ursa MajorÔÇÖs stormed MinorÔÇÖs redoubt,

The time has passed for CRT for Scouts.

The clown wipes off his pancake and departs,

Leaving behind the perfume of his farts.

Scorbatic grit now clogs wokeÔÇÖs nonsense mill.

No more Teiresias or JackÔÇÖnÔÇÖJill.┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á1430

The news passes like Covid through the crowd.

Tell it in Bath, and publish it in Stroud.

No more shall special snowflake rule the roost,

But lose the privilege to which theyÔÇÖre used.

No longer shall their tantrums be appeased;

Instead theyÔÇÖll just be mercilessly teased.

When Tsar drops hyperbaric bomb on serf,

It seems jejune to shrink in fear of TERF.

Microaggression or misgendering

Begins to seem a nugatory thing.                                      1440

Yes, you with your ridiculous man bun

And your antipathy to everyone,

Explain unconscious bias and its harms

To an old woman missing both her arms.

For news to reach the ears of GanymedeÔÇÖs

A drawn-out process, very slow indeed.

ThereÔÇÖs no intelligence of a revolt,

Of wiser heads whoÔÇÖll firmly call a halt;

Only the echo chamberÔÇÖs parakeets

Parroting back and forth castrato tweets.                          1450

The storm gathers outside the palace door;

Within, court toadies backbite all the more.

Nought doth the bunkerÔÇÖs bubble shell assail,

Its carapace of ignorance de-scale.

The inmates of the woke asylum vie

To win acclaim for their woke purity,

To nail the Rainbow to its splintered mast,

Each new theory absurder than the last.

Withal, thermodynamicsÔÇÖ second law,

That all reverts to mess and nothing more,                       1460

Applies in analogue to cultureÔÇÖs tropes,

Wherefore we have our Alexander Popes,

The wielders of witÔÇÖs scalpel, to dissect

The wokely ignorant and incorrect.

And thus someone eventually lifts the lid.

No asking who or what it was they did.

A morning dawns, sullen with bleached defiance,

No shouted orders nor mumbled compliance.

No zombie chants his brainless catechism –

Silence is violence! or some such jism.                             1470

Each corridor is quiet and each cell

Where wokeÔÇÖs novitiate endured his hell

No more with mobbed denunciation rings

Only with rodents and their scuttlings.

J____ wanders lonely as a cancelled cloud

Through halls where lickspittles once cringed and bowed

And chambers where the Woke Lords sat in state,

And TwitterÔÇÖs Atropos determined fate.

Justly neglected in an outhouse squats

WokenessÔÇÖs gorgeous golden chamber pot,┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 1480

Now lifting gingerly the ornate lid

J____ views the filament of arachnid.

Thus natureÔÇÖs crocodile who loves to feast.

Upon the bluebottles or wildebeest

Who oÔÇÖer WokenessÔÇÖs slurry flock or buzz,

Whereon there now congeals a genteel fuzz.

Now just as gingerly replace the lid,

Try not to think about the arachnid.

Reversing quickly from the damned purlieu

Of WokenessÔÇÖs abandoned unflushed poo,┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á1490

J____ tramps anew the silent corridors.

What shagpiles, laminates! What parquet floors!

Coming at last to where once Wokeness, throned,

Worshipped by managers as workers groaned,

Dispensed her judgements with malign caprice:

A place to be taped off by the police.

And here where as Her Dauphin he once sat

Upon this throne on which a pigeonÔÇÖs shat

There lies, addressed to him, an envelope.

The letter speaks of ÔÇ£money for old rope.┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á 1500

Nice while it lasts, but always comes that phase

When rope runs out and folk weary of craze.

I shall arise and go now to my lake

And doze again in that huge faecal cake.

YouÔÇÖre quite at liberty to keep the flame,

Or hire an agent to exploit your fame.ÔÇØ

See J____, floored by the cynicism, sigh

Deflating like a punctured pastry pie.

Now finally this vacuous arsehole

Experiences darkness of the soul.                                   1510

ThereÔÇÖs those who, in relation to his pain,

A mirthful Schadenfreude entertain.

ThatÔÇÖs not how decent people like us think,

ItÔÇÖs only that the nose wrinkles at stink.

For J____ÔÇÖs plaint is scarce a pretty thing.

Therein no noble sentiment takes wing.

Instead a rancid stream of fucks and shits

Deprives the listener of half his wits.

DonÔÇÖt vex yourselves with J____ÔÇÖs actual words;

You might as well be polishing a turd,.                             1520

Despite preferring not to bowdlerise

– the well-hung game oozes with filthy flies -┬á

We will discreetly now adopt the veil

And not indulge poor taste beyond the pale.

Wherefore good gentles we thus represent

His tantrum as a classical lament.

ÔÇ£Oh weep! Wokeness is gone with all her prose!

How triste the blightÔÇÖs departure from the rose!

How are the snowflakes fallen, and the woke

Become the butt of vaudevillian joke.                              1530

Have mercy on us wretches, we beseech,

Cursed with the crushing burden of free speech.

If freedomÔÇÖs slavery and war is peace,

How shall we cope without the thought police?

Muffle the pipes and muffle then the drum,

And try to look appropriately glum.

No more the thrill of following the crowd,

No woke scold shall determine whatÔÇÖs allowed.

Instead weÔÇÖll exercise our flabby will,

Although the thought of it makes us feel ill.ÔÇØ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á ┬á1540

No woke choir sings in the Woke DauphinÔÇÖs praise

No fem castrato trills pastoral lays.

No mutilated hijrah vents the urge

To rend their robes nor rasp their squalid dirge.

Only the tumbleweed blows through these halls

Where Wokeness preached complete and utter balls.

ThereÔÇÖs nobody to cheer, nobody claps

Except flies flapping broken wings, perhaps.

So finally he knows the game is up;

No last gasp intervention by Fred Krupp.                        1550

When DomesdayÔÇÖs bank is calling in its loans

The U.S. Cavalry wonÔÇÖt rescue J____.

He finds his thoughts now dwelling at long last

On sepia-tinted recall of the past.

There was in some dank suburb once a room

All re-used teabags and low wattage gloom.

Here from the shelf the bust of Marx glared down

At cod Byronic prelapsarian clown

Slumped on his bed of antiracist books.

Fed by boiled kettle the pot noodle cooks.                    1560

On radiators clothes heroic pose:

The rubber corset, pouch, and autre chose.

It had a certain dignity, youÔÇÖd think,

The hard scrabble of fetish on the brink.

Oh for lost innocence, he pines and grieves,

Fond memories flutter like Autumn leaves.

Cursed be indeed that fickle false fraud Fame,

Midwife of calumny and lifelong shame.

Thrice cursed the baubles and the tasteless bling

That only grief and desolation bring.                             1570

Disdain the limelight and embrace, beyond,

The humble pleasures of the demi-monde,

The simple life of stoic fortitude

Leavened with a libidinism lewd.

Gird then thy well-waxed loins, Woke Ganymede,

And go, before youÔÇÖve gone too much to seed,

Back to that bedsit to squeeze out those turds

For subs to polish into canting words.

ÔÇ£IÔÇÖll go!ÔÇØ lisps J____, ÔÇ£but if itÔÇÖs all the same,

I think I will stay guardian of the flame,                        1580

Make of the gimp hole that is henceforth mine

A place of pilgrimage, a martyrÔÇÖs shrine.

And thither shall flock untold multitudes

Of disenfranchised race-baiters and prudes.

And IÔÇÖll hold court, the sacerdotal scribe

The Venerable Bede of wokeÔÇÖs lost tribe.ÔÇØ

Forthright he stands, with purpose in his eye

To raise the flags, and see which ones will fly,

Which grape ripens, which withers on the vine.

The true believer through the slow decline,                 1590

Amid despond, for hope thereÔÇÖs always room;

Let just one cornflower on the midden bloom.

So J____ with oils his gleaming loins anoints,

And GoogleMaps consults on certain points.

The world is all before him to abuse,

Water to muddy, clarity confuse.

He hefts his worldly goods into a bag,

His household gods, his gimpsuit and ballgag,

And bag-in-hand, with mincing steps and fey,

Through Neasden takes his solitary way.                    1600

FINIS.

From:

Published in: Free Speech Backlash