THURSDAY 28th MAY 2009.

A malady made
From the graven images
Of modern data,
And spewed out of the backpacks
Of shock jock politicians.

And all consuming
Their veneration debate;
Exclusive chambers
Bar sensible shakers in
Favour of those who won’t move,

And sprinkle ancient
Carpets with fresh smelling dust
To be snorted at
And huffed up with what buttons
And beads can be squeezed from us,

Whose rage, once frozen,
Now vents melt water over
Any official
Unlucky enough to stand
On their behalf this summer.