Stratified, horrified

In a low cut cultured voice

matching décolletage and a choice

cut glass Waterford accent

swirling smokey and whiskey hued

holding belief up to the light

a manner of speaking

looking down to the shadows

of one’s social inferiors

bossing emasculated retainers

decked out in immaculate livery

nothing finer than confidence

in one’s station in life

and knowing which knife

for the fish

high faluting hoi polloi

hullabaloo barrowboy’s audacious spiel

rolling the punters pickpocketing dreams

of finer things in imitation of the Toffs

trashy flashing the cash on the weekend

selling cheap watches and wannabe knockoffs

counter girls coining it in quiet sleight of hand

samples to besties sorority investments

made under the counter

handbag skullduggery laugh about it

tout it out at the wine bar

you’re a star my favourite colour

“how did you guess?”

social climbing mountebanks curl curvy pink

chink of porcelaine a chatelaine

in a day dress seeking redress for acres of

boredom

mother’s little helpers help find a little rest

from the afternoon fog

rosé wine list early bird drinking

and worming her way up the ladder

entertaining her hubby’s progress

an assortment of marks an sparks oven ready

hubris

and cogent remarks all one to the vicar

over dessert at her weekly

weak kneed dinner parties

fur coat and no knickers never a flicker of irony

worn lightly drenched in the French perfume

of upwardly mobility

politely semi detached seeks unattached

for love in the afternoon wreckage

suburban deployment the enjoyment

of one up on the Joneses

a quick run down the phone list

she’s already in motion

politically woke and choking on the joke

that is trying to keep one’s head above water

when the world is a whirlpool of mayhem and

slaughter

and all the privilege private law that sure oughta

be brought to an end…if only society would bend

end up boycotting everything everywhere

everyone plotting for their piece of limited edition

earth pie crust slightly moldy

around the crenellated keep

cutting deep on a blustery awayday

making hay before we all get blown away

pointed debate at the coffee shop

too late to stop try to shop with conscience

and an eye open to equity the iniquity of the city

no pity for the poor bastards housed

under the bypass

with the old put out to grass

where it’s always greenest

the other side of the fence

from your thoughts

Tuppence for ‘em

“Oh and a fiver for a latte, Guvnor?”

¥¥¥

I thought about editing it but nah that just spoils the rhythm, so feel free to join the dots,

Thanks for reading

Sea😁🙃😘

Photo by Jaroslav A. Polák on Unsplash