Attila the Stockbroker
Use Of English - Poem by Attila the Stockbroker
The phrase ‘politically correct’
is not at all what you’d expect.
But how has it been hijacked so?
I’m going to tell you, ‘cos I know.
You’d think it should mean kind and smart
Radical and stout of heart
A way of living decently.
Well, so it did, till recently.
And then some cringing, nerdy divs
Sweaty, misogynistic spivs
Sad, halitosis-ridden hacks
all wearing lager-stained old macs
with spots and pustules and split ends
and absolutely zero friends
(Yes, living, breathing running sores:
The right wing press’s abject whores)
Were all told, by their corporate chiefs
To rubbish decent folks’ beliefs
To label with the phrase ‘P.C’
All that makes sense to you and me
And write off our progressive past.
Their articles came thick and fast
The editors gladly received them
and loads of idiots believed them.
So let me make it very clear
To all of you assembled here
In strident tones both rude and loud
That I’m ‘P.C.’ and bloody proud
‘Cos it’s a term we should reclaim.
Yes, we’re correct - so where’s the shame?
I’m foxed by the strange implication
Accepted somewhere in this nation
that to be ‘incorrect’ is right.
Those who think that are not that bright.
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