The reclusive poet Kevin Jones
Was incredibly hacked off,
With compliant media
& crappy government plans.
He was so sick and tired
Of brand new business types:
Abounding in his local region
With their smarmy smiles and smart phones.
So he decided one day
To become Commandant Kev.
Then he went out & recruited
Jaded ‘Job Seeker’ renegades.
At first he looked aghast at them:
With their tattoos, jogging bottoms
And Middlesbrough football shirts.
Yet he moulded them as best he could
And transformed them meticulously
Into a piecemeal, militant army.
As he stood splendidly dapper; clad
In Maoist cap and slightly creased jacket,
He provided them with an aim
And named them his ‘Jogging Bottom’ brigades.
After a few rudimentary discussions,
They assembled at a remote base
In the gloomy Cleveland hills:
Where devious Commandant Kev
Coerced them with cans of cider
And boxes of Regal King Size.
His aim was to take Tees – side
By storm & by strategy;
And impose his great vision
Of mass collectivism.
But he was thwarted by sneaky spies:
Who poisoned the minds of his gang.
So there was no need to send in,
Bovine police or brute army,
As guerrilla tactics never
Got off the ground. There was
Too much talking about trivialities
Like football, cars, darts
& birds who they had been with.
There was not much in the way of
Dedication & discipline;
Not much discussion about Marx;
Just scapegoating of foreigners.
Kevin’s Jogging Bottom Brigades
Were permanently drunk
And when our Kev ran out of supplies
Of bog standard booze & fags,
It was inevitable that
His recruits deserted one by one.
Still he cursed them for their
Profound, petty fickleness.
O he cursed them loudly night and day!
Yet although he was disillusioned,
He vowed to rise again:
With stronger purpose & plan;
To fight corporate greed & power
Wherever and whenever it sprang.
But he has yet to emerge
From a decade’s hibernation.
When he does you can be sure,
He’ll take Tees side by storm…
And perhaps with better strategy!
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