Appeal to Potential Asylum Seekers By Order of Her Majesty’s Government

by Kevin Higgins

 

The desserts of Vienna are creamier

than is the case in even

the better bits of Leeds or Swansea.

Their trams turn up when they’re meant to,

which is hardly ever true

of an outskirts-of-Great-Yarmouth Saturday night,

except when Prince Edward is dying,

re-marrying, or giving birth,

and there’s an Ian Stuart Donaldson concert to celebrate.

 

Also, we think it important we clarify:

Hugh Grant is not a real person.

So, there’s no point coming here

in the hope of making him

your husband, or even

your wife.

 

Contrary to reports in the popular press:

our social security is in fact rubbish.

And we’re working hard to make it worse.

You’ll toil all the hours picking

shells off a beach in the dark;

or clean a pretend bank

for less per week than

Andrew Neil pays to have

his back waxed.

 

And you’ll have nowhere to live,

given our plan to gift

the last council house to former

model Jerry Hall

for rest and recuperation

the day after she’s taken annually

by Rupert Murdoch, as she’s now

contractually bound

to let herself be.

 

If you stay where you are,

as a gesture, we offer you

Richard Branson. The first forty four

legitimate asylum seekers

to complete the relevant form will each

be entitled to one of his teeth,

for use perhaps as collateral or

as a miniature sex toy –

 

on condition you remove

it at your own leisure using

the rudimentary

chisel provided.

 

 

 

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