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THINGS    THAT    HATE    ME

Spaghetti,   for I don’t allow it to outrun my utensil
I chop it all to inch-long pieces then use my fork as a shovel. 
Expensive French wine,   for I won’t  ever pretend
It’s much more delicious than Californian, “Oh it’s the end!”

Italian shoes:  they grumble at  each other and say
He never boasts  our nationality, only speaks  of comfort each day.
Versace men’s clothes,  for I know they are no different to other clothes,
Only pricier and rather  dull  and a foreign name that one loathes.

Gateshead,  because I think it was a horrible place to be born and raised
And it thinks it’s a cool up-to-date nice place now, but it should still be rased.
England,  for I don’t  miss it at all , and will never  seek  
The  company of expats who  say they are indeed such a clique.

Cell phones,   for I won’t carry them absolutely everywhere
And won’t answer at each beep as if life depended on its blare.
Cars,   which try to assert their importance  as boys’  toys -
My interest is in  lovely things which make no smelly noise.

Colds and flu,    for I don’t allow them to spoil my whole day.
Just take regular remedy stuff and go on normally.
Ultra-slim fashion models scowling on catwalks  because  I say 
They are only skinny girls and rather plain-looking,  rather grey. 

Australia,   because I won’t say it’s a wonderful place, 
Only a desert  and a few big towns pretending to be like the USA’s.
Italian language,   because it is “the most beautiful  and spoken with ease”
And this is obviously not  so to the Welsh or Chinese.

Football games,   for they insist on pretending to be crucial to life
And much more important than kids or wife.
Squeaky hinges, wobbly tables, leaky taps  and broken things myriad -
Because I don’t allow them to exist  for an interminable period.

By the way,   things that  don’t  hate me include   the  US Navy,
Folk music,  cats,   Richard  Nixon,   and  kasha with gravy,
……..For  obvious reasons.
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