With caravans and laden SUVs
festooned with mountain bikes they crowd our lanes
with lists for Ottolenghi recipes,
demanding charging points and better drains.
Such apparatus-needy happiness!
Whoever thought a beach meant so much fuss?
Their grown-up toys (What’s that?), this sheer excess
beyond imaginations of the likes of us.
E-bikes, e-scooters for their precious whelps
who, treating us as bumpkins, take the piss.
(We thicken up our accents and this helps –
a few invented words don’t go amiss.)
They clog our A&E, each parking slot;
party all night. We’re sleepless through their din.
It’s not all downside, though. We charge a lot
(times three, to them) and rake the money in.