1. AT THE MEN’S OUTFITTERS

New Labour buys a suit for every wedding.
(His Dad began in veg, moved on to fruit.)
He’s here to choose it with the girl he’s bedding.

Did well at school, did politics at Reading,
his father only owned a single suit:
New Labour buys a suit for every wedding.

On visits north, the principles he’s shedding
lie like fat leaves upon the Volvo’s route-
he’s here to choose it with the girl he’s bedding.

The memos that he spends each Friday shredding
include a secret mantra, it’s a beaut:
New Labour buys a suit for every wedding.

The stage he wanted gleams and where he’s heading
so much depends on clothes bought with your loot.
He’s here to choose it with the girl he’s bedding.

Of this dark purchase everyone was dreading
I sing, and Pan-like play my wooden flute.
New Labour buys a suit for every wedding,
he’s here to choose it with the girl he’s bedding.

2. AT THE MUSIC STORE

Songs from Ally McBeal is my CD.
I want it so I need it. In the shop
I dance in headphones to the driving pop
that makes the world a moral just for me.

I think that I should buy it, after all
the sleeve looks great and I can save on food.
The shop plays Heavy Metal, loud and crude,
but I feel safe, I rule the shopping mall.

So happy in my headphones in my meeting
with drums and bass and voice that sings of pain
(of love that doesn’t work and doesn’t gain):
I’ll buy it and I’ll take today off eating.

3. AT THE SUPERMARKET

At every till I try I prove Sod’s law,
get stuck behind some bastard with a cheque.
The girl is unconcerned then finds a flaw,
I’m held here at some supervisor’s beck.
I hate myself, I hate the world and you,
I hate the way I love to join the queue.

4. AT THE FAST FOOD OUTLET

They’re not hungry but they long to eat.
Untrained minds. Trained tongues. Trainered feet.
Each fat chip’s
unlucky dip
slips grease on Rio’s winding-sheet.

5. AT THE NEWS AGENCY

The swimsuit you discarded when
you knew the price of long fair hair
is cultured peace, is designate
to keep your lovers from despair.

Consumer-care is absolute:
consuming’s what we’re asked to do.
Computer-smiles make manifest
your saving presence to the true.

I give the coin and get your touch,
retire home, read by the fire.
I press my tears, I kiss your face:
if only prayer would soon inspire….

But mirror, mirror on the wall,
I am the fairest of them all.

6. AT THE BOOKSHOP

I’d love a new book.
At home I’ve unread sixteen.
New Amis? Let’s go.

7. BY THE FOUNTAIN

You want to use me to model for sloth? That’s unfair.
The brothers would have spoken of sloth but I shan’t,
now that they’ve lost me, with their straps and their taunts.
I’m crouched in a warm womb, waiting to be born.
I have no anger or envy, even when parents stagger by under Playstations.
I have no lust for the women with their long black legs.
I take a cup of tea at two, read the menu four times.
Even threw a coin into the fountain myself yesterday.
There’s a chaplain here on Fridays, so I pretend to be German.
The guards are powerless if you don’t react, just keep sitting.
I’ve found a certain peace, unexpected and inactive.
No, keep your twenty pence, I’m playing by the rules.