Best China

I always said it purpled the dynastic,
was as swell as a dinnerlady rhinoplasty,
meant as much as the last matchstick
to a 70’s Catholic,

and I always bucked on Mothering Sunday;
why those veins weren’t fit for a pasty
and never meant what they ought to,
were given as much thought to

as an Alzheimer’s patient
to his doctor’s education,
or an economic crisis
to a racist.

I always thought it was a load of bull
like Qin Shi Huang’s council,
or the eye of a crossbow
trained on the neck of a rainbow,

but now I’m cracked it's more to me;
the ceremony,
the hypocrisy;
crockery.