Miss, you said an ‘Exhibition’ –
This is never proper art!
Where’s the paintings of old geezers ?
And there ain’t one naked tart.
See that sheet with stripes and splodges
And that wall all scribbled words?
I’d do better with my eyes shut.
That glass tank with three dead birds
Stinks like rotten cheese. I’m dizzy
Flashing lights going up and down.
Past those bits of manky carpet
Called The Artist’s Wedding Gown.
I’m fed up being made a fool of:
When we tried to have a laugh
Bouncers said they’d send us packing.
Miss, we’re off to find the caff.