Ready... Steady...

Motorised people, throbbing behind 

Plastic in Barnet 

And in Muswell Hill, 

Starving after space 

Thrust themselves between 

Their fellow obstacles. 

Low, lustful gear, and high 

Despiteful arr pee em  

Pushing and punching 

Roaring horns as proxy faces: 

Dents and scratches scars 

Of mission self.

The race, the race, 

For scarce success 

Makes knuckles, knees and elbows 

Grow, and shows the heart 

For the wrong reward. 

On these little mounds of misery 

We plant our faded flags