The Brutish Bile Of Britain’s Worst Newspaper
“a flagellated protozoan parasite that colonizes and reproduces in the small intestine…”
How very apt. A paper that produces shit.
These are the poems of mine that the vermin at the Guardian deleted from Poster Poems (the theme was February), because they dislike me; why wouldn’t they? Mediocrity always hates talent. Luckily hic liked them enough to save them: I had no copies. Welcome to Con-Dem Britain, the Guardian paradise.
Yesterday’s Guardian front page informed us that the Dutch Crown Prince had been ‘injured’ skiing.
Truly, a paper for these degraded times and worthy of the gossip-columnist Pooter Rusbridger. I think I’m going to be very ill now: excuse me…
PS: Here’s another poem the dullards deleted; alright, the username was a bit of effrontery, but, hey…I’m an effrontery kind of a guy.
The point is: it’s a goddamn poem; maybe not a good one, but a poem. To delete art, however minor, merely out of slavish rule-loving and spite is the mark of the degraded and base.
Anyway, thanks to the ever-wonderful hic, it was saved and here it is, for better or worse (worse -Ed.):
I think it’s much better than the rewrite that I tried from memory for hic’s sake.