I Can Never Forgive Ann Widdicombe

A bit sprawly and rambling this one. It’ll probably be edited. I think the rambling tone is set by the separation of being in Southampton and wanting – and yet not wanting  – to be there to witness Kelvin’s passing.

bugler

I Can Never Forgive Ann Widdicombe

The day they tore the flats down,

a woman dressed in a navy blue

uniform with red silk sash –

buttons and medals winking

with delight in the low March

sun – turned up on site

with a bugle to sound

‘The Last Post’

for former residents,

well-wishers and the curious;

ambulance chasing media

and those glad that their

nemesis had finally

been defeated.

 

Two hundred miles away

I watched the scene

on BBC local news

through the SkyBox.

All I could think of, while

comfort eating Turkish Delight,

was Pink Floyd chanting:

 

“Tear down the wall

tear down the wall.”

 

Ann Widdicome played

to the camera – with that

gleeful chortle and twinkle

hiding the demon within –

she pushed the button

to start the demolition

process, wielding the wrecking

ball that took down

the bridge between blocks.

Her perfect photo-op.

A Tory Housing Minister’s dream;

to laugh as she destroys Enid Hattersley’s

working class homes,

while Roger Waters intones:

 

“it’s not easy banging your heart

against some mad bugger’s Wall.”

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