TELLING THEM I'M SCHIZO
Why were they petrified? They all looked “Bad Girl”
Like I'd farted loudly, had sex, got caught eating chips
out of a newspaper package (that dates me) in
a horridly green school uniform?
I wasn't evil. I'd been very ill.
The lot of them were lefties in the Labour Party. I'd
thought labels like “persecuted” “sufferer from Thatcher
shutting hospitals” would grab me Victim status, silver strings,
features, photos of beauty wronged,
in fact the works!
But they were furtive, shifty and embarrassed
almost as if I'd said the crisps they were scoffing with their beer
were VD scabs – like in the joke:
a slut's in bed with a bloke, they've shagged, he says he likes
these crisps where'd she get them? They're not crisps they're scabs
picked off her lady parts
she says. She's got the clap!
It's called dark humour. Nutters and the RAF, the Army, and
the Navy share it. Being disgusting helps us laugh
at dreadful stuff
like being made out to deserve being mad burned up or shot.
All graduates, trained to be open-minded. Makes your arse laugh, I was an Oxford graduate so in theory better qualified than that lot.
The promises all sound fine before the election. But people do and say things how they've learned already, so what turns out, what happens, is strange and unimaginable.
So's how we still get our bit of fun! (Like my brothers and sisters pictured below, and told on in the section called BLACK JOKES)
Look at this shower of misfits! Produced in what our Mum and Dad thought would be an idyllic world post-WW2.