The man with the chip on his shoulder,

rubs his bald head in disgust.

Caught out in one lie in which his team

put imaginary words into speeches

about how life has been changed

since they took over the running of their lives,

some may say hit with sticks, branches, dead silver

like trees and the snarling rage of a whipped up

frenzy, he now looks down the mass and suggest

with fist thumping air back and forth

in perfect tones of a pseudo

gentleman who has learned nothing,