Published:

2 comments

The last instalment of the Film
Reviews included a number of items which by no stretch of the imagination could
be considered wholesome family viewing.  We have therefore confiscated our
reviewer’s cinema season ticket and instead asked him to concentrate on
something morally improving and uplifting: poetry.

Alan Johnson is the new Education
Secretary (only the fifth one we’ve had in the last nine years!) and, just like
all the others, he is promising to get a better grip on things than his
predecessor, raise standards and make learning more accessible for kids.  (Well,
actually I’ve no idea if he is or not.  I expect so: I mean, that’s what they
all say, isn’t it?) 

But there’s a reason why children have
problems learning things: it’s difficult.  Some of the words are too long. 
Books are so old fashioned.  The subjects don’t reflect the reality of life as
it is lived today in Britain.  In the interests of spreading culture, therefore,
Conservative Home is proud to assist the Department for Education & Skills
in its grand project of making the great works of literature more accessible to
today’s modern internet generation and, like, you know, learn ‘em better’n what
they is now, innit.

William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s
day?

      Nah, I aint signed the
consent form yet.

Rough words do shake the darling buds
of May

      Make me pregnant: I wanna
council flat.

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven
shines

      Sometimes I’ll go with any
old geezer

And every fair from fair sometime
declines

      Not me after one Bacardi
Breezer

But thy eternal summer shall not
fade

      Just like my new mobile’s
loud ring tone

Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in
his shade

      Thank God for botox jabs and
silicone.

So long as men can breathe, or eyes
can see

      A girl can make a living from
Page Three.

Alfred, Lord
Tennyson

Half a league, half a
league

      Half a league
downward

Damning assessment scores

      Wrote six men from
OFSTED.

“Failed your High School
Grade!”

“Chucked your exams!” he
said.

Into the school of Doom

      Strode six men from
OFSTED.

Morons to right of them

Morons to left of them

Morons in front of them

      All under-performers:

Their’s not to whine and
bleat

Their’s but to crib and
cheat

Their’s turkey twizzlers to
eat.

Into the valley of Dole

      Strode the sixth
formers.

William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a
cloud

And strolled near and strolled
far

When all at once I shouted
loud:

Some bastard’s gone and clamped my
car.

How can it be a National
Park

If they can tow off your motor for a
lark?

I drive my car to my local
shop.

Not for me the supermarket

Only a few minutes stop

A fine because of where I parked
it.

No wonder village business
dies

Choked by heartless traffic
spies.

Another letter through my
door

From Gordon’s Inland
Revenue.

The blood-suckers want more and
more.

What is an honest man to
do?

Life holds ever fewer
delights

Working to support such
parasites.

For oft, when on my couch I
lie,

Chatting to expensive
shrink,

Would it save tax if I should
die?

It’s enough to drive a chap to
drink

Even then you can’t escape their
throttle:

The swine tax two-thirds of every
bottle.

A A Milne

Little Boy kneels at the foot of the
bed,

      Droops on the little hands
little gold head.

Hush!  Hush!  Whisper who
dare

      Christopher Robin has been taken
into care

[RIGHT, THAT’S QUITE ENOUGH OF
THAT.]

2 comments for: William Norton’s Literature Review

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.