That toddler in Tesco

You are that toddler in Tesco dragging its feet out the front of the pram,tripping up blind old women,that piece of popcorn that looked like someone I can’t quite figure out who irritating. You are Judus, the bad knight and that guy who stabbed Ceasar, you are that tree that fell through the power line, the reason people wrote all those songs about fuckwits. You are all the problems with all the circuits, all the council tax bills, all the incompetent idiots who make all the decisions about debt and politics.
You are getting out of a limo eating ice cream shaking the fists of a long line of enemies and not even knowing that the press want you to sneeze and leave a long line of mucus from your sleeve to your chin.
You are everything a parent forgets to pack for a holiday, every closed window that a bird thinks is free, every young mothers belief that their foetus will be differently pleasing. You are every scratch on every CD, every landscape ruined by industry, you are every load of washing drying in the rain. I pity all the trees, all the weeds, all the computer keys, all the cups of tea that you make for acquaintances. You are every crap wedding DJ, every supper ruined by TV, my notebook broke backed floating in a river just out of reach. I hear on the grapevine of a dream that you are dreadfully sorry, and because I think cruelty and you are interesting, I put you in Newcastle United shorts pulled up to your armpits on stage and no one no one is laughing.