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 The Scent That Captures That "1930s Moment"!

All material copyrighted to © 2014

or to the various credited sources © 2014



These polemical pigmies claim that many of the mushrooming

Lumpenproles are prone through desperation to seek out

Sharks for loans –though no one’s forcing them, nor holding

Guns to their heads –No need to, they’ll say, when advertising

Lets them have it with both barrels, bombards them with Midas-

Gilded slogans and mixed messages (as if to patronisingly

Say ordinary people are stupid!); while Wonga languishes

In derelict regulation, resurrecting ‘usury’ at interest of 4,000% –

The moral challenge to Archbishop Welby who threatens

To compete them out of existence by setting up less punitive

Moneylending stalls inside the nation’s temples, Bank

Of the CofE, slogan: Faith, Hope, Charity at 1% APR,

And Salvation for savers via overdraft –while the more hair-

Shirted Christians wrestle with the quandary: would Christ,

Himself, His Nibs, have approved of altruism on condition

Of Returns? Then, attempt to acclimatise their spiritual

Consciences to the new Budget Discount Beatitudes… That’s

Their kind of metier, these dialectical dwarves; that’s their

Gutter-level attempt at polemic –Pah! Polemic! Compost

More like! Rhetorical humectant, mere perfunctory putrefaction…













In these Austerity days of Alarm Clocks-Back Britain, basking

As we do in the bakelite mentality of wartime privation, we

KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON in blue-rinse altruism

Of donations to humanitarian campaigns and good causes –

All but our own– tagged in tattered charity shops with vintage

Price-tags, antique violet-rinsed assistants ruminating on

Their SWIZZLES MATLOW PARMA VIOLETS or sucking violet creams,

Sipping aromatic violet tea, popping out for furtive puffs

Of violet-coloured cigarettes, tubes of violet-flavoured tobacco

(Purchased from the tar-black, tinted-paned tobacco boutique,

BURKITT, established 1873, and now, in spite of public

Smoking bans, its quixotically archaic clattering till, like

The husk of a beetle, is spluttering back into unfashionable

Business as its retail competitors capitalise on the new vogue

In halcyon curiosities) –gossiping Pepperpots, Tory-parroting

Polyglots of government-sponsored prejudices, nattering

Away about austerities, interlocuting national priorities:

Parma Violets

‘Course, it’s all because of this Aroma that there’s a lack

Of respect for property these days/ Ooo yesss/ That foreign

Aroma, "Gypos" I think they used to call 'em. Or "charva",

Aromany word so I've 'eard, meanin' dirty-faced tearaways –

I fink that's where the term "Char" comes from, you know, for

A cuppa' Char/ I fought that was from 'Char Lady'? /Might

Well be Flo.../ "Feral"'s what Beryl calls 'em/ That's right...  

‘Course, you can’t say any of that these days/ Ooo nooo/

Not with all this political correctness and what not/ Yesss,

But they're gettin’ rid of all that tat and gaffer-tape now

Ain’t they?/ Yess, and about time too, if you ask me… So

Anyway, this Aroma what’s been ‘anging rand like a bad

Smell at Eaves Green, down Meridan way/ Where’s Eaves

Green?/ Down Meridan way/ Ohhh/ Anyway, those nice

Nimbies, you know them, a luverly famerly, they see’d to it

That this Aroma was removed/ Really?/ Yesss, by the Cancill –

You know, a bit like that shenanigans down at Dale Farm, all

Those Micks what pitched up a camp wivout proper plannin’

Permissions/ Ooo yes, shockin’ that was/ ‘Course, they didn’t

‘ave to get in the boys in blue with them Teasers this time rand,

No, ‘cos the mucky scrubbers upped sticks after they got wind

Of that petition/ Yehh, that put the wind up ‘em didn’t it?/

They’d turned all that unspoilt greenbelt into a bloomin’

Mudbath by the time they’d finished with it, the grubby

Buggers/ Shockin'/ Not so much as a by-your-leave when

They finally got rand to leavin’. Not A sausage of apology/

Just what I was saying to Violet only yesterday: "No respect

For over peoples’ property these days" –wever it’s patches

Of brannfield scrubland or urban empties– THERE’S NO

RESPECT. None whatsoever. Zero. Zilch. Nada./ Small

Wonder we have to have a dose of this Zero Tolerance all

Considered, is it?/ Ooh no, n' 'em new Zero Hour Contracts…

Palma Violets2
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