The Poet Laureate was ever a man of the people. Aware that the proles like common sports like The Football he decided to immerse himself into the world of beer and skittles, often sneaking out at night under cover to become ‘a cockerney jape’.
“I wanted to sink into their world of roll-ups, flat caps and whippets,” he told ‘Blimey – Poetry! Monthly’. “I had heard there was a ‘world cup’ taking place, and realised the only way I could truly understand the common man was to BECOME the common man, so with a neckerchief, a dog on a piece of hairy string, and hobnailed boots, I Lambeth-walked my way into the East End. There, I watched The England get ‘knocked out’ as the plebs called it, by The Belgium, and subsequently took part in the riot which ensued. I would have escaped unscathed if my butler hadn’t given the game away by serving my mid-evening tea on a golden tray.”
His dalliance with the lower classes may have been traumatic, but I think we can all agree it helped to create this work of genius…
“The ref is blind, I hear you cry,
And yet he can quite palpably,
‘Man on’ I cry out,
But the crowd of paups ignore me,
For my voice is one amongst many.
See, for the goals slot in,
One, two, maybe some others,
I wasn’t paying attention,
For my eyes were filled with the glory,
Of the cockernee japesters and their otherworldly talk.
“Ya fackin’ cant,” I heard them cry,
“Ya big, fat wanger,” they roared,
“Fack me, the fackin’ ref is a cant,” they harkened,
“Fackin’, fack fack, fackin’ fack!” they roared as one,
Throwing the occasional ‘cant’ in there,
For good measure,
And I realised with a blinding clarity,
That I would never understand their common ways,
Their manners, their mores, their loves and life,
For they have tattoos,
And dirt on their cheeks,
And live in coal mines,
Where they dig for bread pudding.
Lord luvva duck, for they are a separate species,
And I minded my time with them not,
But would I go back into that strange,
Dark hovel known as ‘The Docker’s Fist’?
And I say ‘no’,
For they smell.”
A staggering work of heart-rending genius, I’m sure you’ll agree.