UNIT Know One

Here’s one we prepared earlier. It depicts a specific kind of white, middle class rat bag found only in Britain. I suspect people in this country have met such odious ponces, especially if they lived through the early 1990s. I incorporated my penchant for scientific language into this verbal assault...with splendid results.

I’ve seen you on street corners, your dog on a piece of rope
like an electron round a nucleus that has no isotope:
too much work’s required to jump to another energy state.
You’d rather not arrive at all than turn up 2 hours late.

In orbit round your body fly your satellites here and there;
your atmosphere reveals an ecosystem in your hair.
Your non-event horizon is abysmal to behold:
if any god created you, I hope he broke the mould.

You’re as far from common decency as Saturn from the Sun.
A nanosecond in your company is a light year away from fun.
Your brain scan leaves a nice straight line on my magnetic tape:
your mind is a singularity from which intelligence can’t escape.

Your specific gravity is located in a tin
that you purchased with the pennies from the hat you keep them in,
but since you will not use your cash to live your life at all,
I hope you find a big black hole into which you can fall.

Andy Martin – Vocals, Alto Saxophone,
Tenor Saxophone, Hammond Organ.
Fabian Fritze – Bass Guitar.
Keilan Knight – Drums.

Text & Music – Andy Martin.

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