‘You are the liberal elite!’
Sandra yells at Michael across the street
Michael stares down at his thin jumper and brogues and responds; ‘Who me?’,
But secretly, he is full of glee because all attention is good attention.
‘Yes, you! I know your arrogant, smarmy type.’
She reiterates the point, and he replies quite polite,
Unsure if this is a general point or specific to him,
‘You must have me mistaken for someone else’
‘No! It’s definitely you’, again, forcing him to reassess himself
‘What gave it away?’ he says, as he searches his person for clues,
‘Have we met before? If not, how do you do?’
She exclaims back; ‘Stop being so nice, you faux social clown!’
The high street shoppers all turn around,
And are now watching the spectacle unfold
Inside his head Michael scolds,
His friend Octavius for setting him up on this date,
‘Shall we go for a drink then?’
They enter the buzzard and the frog
And Michael jokes about ordering champagne,
Sandra doesn’t laugh. Michael orders G&T
Sandra goes to the toilet, for a wee,
Michael awkwardly shifts in his chair,
Leaving her there, to pick up the giant bar bill.
As he walks away he wonders still
What was it that gave me away?
As he itches his recently etched on,
Back tattoo of Tony Blair.
All poetry is written by Alex Ferguson.