Things That Hate Me

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.