The Great Wall Street Of China

So during another sleepless night I wrote this poem called The Great Wall Street Of China. It's about the credit crunch and was originally titled Credit Crunch In Springfield (at 4am) and was an epic tale of the rise and fall of Mr Burns but it was long and self indulgent so I trimmed it right down to this and took out any Simpsons references (sorry). 

Filmed in my mum's garden it features a very inquisitive Eagle the chicken who was typing all over the word document I was trying to read. She was just trying to be helpful though, so I couldn't get angry at her. I often lose it at the chickens when they wake me up at 5am but when you find yourself half naked screaming bloody murder at a hen, you realise you're being a fool, it's an odd type of shame. Please click the link and watch the video:

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The Great Wall Street Of China

This system that once seemed so sturdy and solid

Now seems to be wobbly and squalid.

With the city threatening to collapse,

Could this be the time for the left to rise perhaps?

Cos no one in the town hall really knows the solution,

And no one listens to the weirdo mumbling about revolution,

Cos he stinks of booze and his shoes don't match,

How could he, in a million years, help us out of this patch?

So they shout him down and sling him out on the street,

And listen to the man with the matching shoes on his feet.

He says "Though I loaned you all this money, it seems to have run out,

It should have stayed in circulation, it seems there's no doubt

That by now you know most of that money never even existed,

It was just digital figures" he says as the knife gets stuck in and twisted,

"But I need you all to get behind me and bail me out,

I need all the money you have so I can then lend it out,

And charge you interest on what you gave me, it may not seem fair,

But it's so complicated you simply wouldn't understand this monetary affair,

You just can't keep your own money, you've got to bank it trust me,

There are many reasons why but it's big words in small print just see"

In one hand he held a paper filled with tiny lines

And massive words, that no one in here could understand combined,

And in the other hand, he held The London Lite

With a headline that read of Paris Hilton's latest fight.

"OK you do the boring work" the people agreed,

"We'll give you all our money and hope you make it breed"

And with that, he left the building with their wonga in his hands

And laughed in the face of the oddly shoed man,

Who rose to his feet- still standing firmly on the left

And strapped a cardboard sign to his chest,

Pulled out a black marker and on it he wrote,

These 4 words:

I TOLD

YOU SO

.