Brexit


Fat expats recline
on Spain’s sunny coast,
oiled up on olives,
pre-paid for Dignitas:

White-carcass, Lycra-clad,
shell suits half-zipped,
these aren’t the Brits
who will force ‘Brexit’:

They never left Blighty,
EC rules on Spain’s shores,
with their exported, off-shored,
Brit-branded flaws:

Marmited, chipped,
fatty food glad,
their life sun-stroked,
now a leathery blag,

every beached gran,
toasting to a darkened hide,
soon to be repatriated,
in Brexit’s genocide.


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