Nanny State

I, the blue-eyed, bright haired reprobate, A product of the nanny state, raised on free-to-air TV and value cans of rice pudding, lament the current climate on a tiresome bus ride home, glasses fogged from temperature change and watch the world flit idly by. Thoughts of evening news linger inside, despair and poverty, people just like me, like old, rotten cladding, crumbling under social pressure. Us nanny state kids, council-estate bred with ideas above our stations, are a damp squib on far right projections of lazy people addled with benefits, mass-producing offspring in our small council-owned factory homes. The future of this Divided Nation lies in the hands, hearts and minds of breadline babies and charity children. It lies with the people who traverse dangerous waters in plastic boats, entrusting their lives to the ocean instead of guaranteeing their demise on unstable land. The nanny state has a habit of mollycoddling, smothering its most vulnerable with all the extra support they need to make their short time on this sodden planet just a little more bearable.