Standards

Standing on the bonnet of a car. Like The Clash did. On a Volvo. Down the posh street. Where the doctors reside. And where the teachers live. Smoking fags like a military general smokes his victory cigar. Like the Clash did. Down the posh street. Standing on the bandstand on the park. Like The Jam did. Where the kids play. Where the dogs bark. Breaking bottles, throwing stones. Setting fires. Drinking lager like the dads in the pub do. On the bandstand, like the Jam did, down the park. Standing on the roof of Tesco. Like you’re the Pistols. Where your mum shops. Where your gran buys her pepper and crisps. Battering the air conditioners with metal bars. On the roof of Tesco. Where your mum shops. Where your gran buys her pepper and crisps.

And, oi, oi, oi, oi

And, when you are young

And, guns, guns, guns, guns on the roof.

But just who is it you really are?

With your standards

Standing on the drive outside your house. Like your dad did. In the morning. Down your street. Where your neighbours reside. And where your friends live. Needing a fag like a defeated union leader. Like your dad did. Down his street. Standing outside your garage. Where your kids play. Where your dog barks. Broken bottles, loose house bricks. Lager cans. Drunk just like you did. On the bandstand, when the Jam did, down the park. Your wife gets ready for work. The Tesco Metro.  It’s a Monday. After the weekend. You are off to work. You sell central heating systems. Fully fitted. Guaranteed. You have an issue. Your car’s been done over. By the rough kids. You didn’t hear it. You were sleeping in the back bedroom. Your insurance will shoot through the roof. You know this. On your drive. Stood with your kids. Your dog barking for you at your street.

And the dinner party address

And the new rich red, a claret, it should be Beaujolais

And matching cutlery, M&S, Waitrose finest.

Turn that racket down I said

Young ones they have no respect

Listen, I’m going out, going out, going out, going out.

Standing in the corridor of the hospital. Like you did. Your dad did. Trouble down your street. Where your neighbours reside. And where your friends live. Ambulances down your street. Unlike anyone in your family. Down their street. Standing on the bandstand on the park. Amphetamines. Booze. Cocktail. Your son did. Where the kids play. Where the dogs bark. Broken bottles. Loose stones. No fire except in the nostrils. Snorting powder like his mates did. On the bandstand, down the park. Leant on the bonnet of the car outside the hospital. Smoking fags like a naughty schoolboy. Regret is this. The hurt your own heat-stop rush. Feel it. Your wife is inside with your eldest. Stomach pumped. Life can never be the same. You know this. You gather your other kids in the car.