PERFIDIOUS ALBION

Perfidious Albion sees the dawn of a new golden age; the polity is simple – “things were better back in my day”.

Perfidious Albion, the grand march calls to us all. Hear our weight over the cobblestones. I bet you’ve felt so tall.

PERFIDOUS ALBION. As it was. As it ever will be.

Perfidious Albion, social club rockstars with a perpetual blocked nose. “I just can’t seem to beat this cold”, yet it’s a Tuesday in May. It must be something to do with ‘that climate change’.

Perfidious Albion, he only wants a look up your skirt. It’s a complement more than anything. Can’t your countenance hide your hurt?

PERFIDIOUS ALBION. As it was. As it ever will be.

Perfidious Albion, there’s too many of ‘them’ here now, so we’re moving the family to Benidorm. Only tans and the most artisan of English all-you-can-eateries, Empire lives on! So be it in bad cholesterol and inebriated renditions of Anglo-puritan classics – “come on Ilene”, and, what’s that other one?

Perfidious Albion, please don’t tell your Mum about the woman upstairs last night. She’s an old friend of my sister’s who’s worried her pockets are getting tight. That’s what the cash was for you see. I’m sure your Mum would understand if I explained, just for now it’s probably best we keep this between you and me.

PERFIDIOUS ALBION. As it was. As it will ever be.

Perfidious Albion, our Tony is a pocket dynamite. His exact talent however is non-descript. He’s destined for stardom though of course; he’s captain of the year six football team!

Perfidious Albion, our only revolutionaries are reactionaries, our socialist embourgeoisement. They’re out in berets sticking it to the man whilst Mum and Dad are making the commute in suits and ties.

PERFIDIOUS ALBION. As it was. As it ever will be.

Perfidious Albion, ecstasy and shallow romance hit before you’ve left the schoolyard. How did making it out in the daylight get this hard?

Perfidious Albion, hurt and confusion are curriculum. Your soul’s manifest destiny a bland simulacrum.

Perfidious Albion, where dreams of grandeur come to die. I’ve never left Fenham and I’m pushing on twenty-five.

Perfidious Albion, council kids on estates take their own lives. He was such a funny young man I swear I never saw him cry.

Perfidious Albion, the grand march calls to us all. Feel our might over the pavements, I bet you’ve never felt so sure.

PERFIDIOUS ALBION. AS IT WAS. AS IT EVER WILL BE.

For the blind and for those trying to see.

By Luke Neillis