Anatomy of a Bomb scare – by Kevin Higgins

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Anatomy of a Bomb scare

for Jacqueline Walker

 

Tasks such as this are typically implemented

on deniable mobile phones,

ordered by a raised eyebrow or nod

fourth or fifth floor

of an unpainted, concrete building,

about which no more can be said because,

for reasons obvious to both

The Guardian and the Daily Star – though they

choose different language to say

so – the security services never comment on

operational matters.

 

It’s the unanimous advice of a committee

of twenty seven former Attorney Generals,

the Chair of the BBC board of governors, and all ex

Archbishops of Canterbury (living and dead)

that for reasons of national well being no record must be kept

of the twitchy eyebrow or official looking

nod of the head in question. Such things are done

by loyal servants of things as they must remain

when sending round Balaclavad policemen

(and women) might prove counterintuitive.

 

On rare occasions some independent maniac

in a top floor flat with hardly any windows

who generally speaking couldn’t organise

a butt rub at a tantric sex party,

to which he’d never be invited anyway,

inspired by the sweaty ravings

of our Twitter bots which unlike Russia’s

don’t exist, miraculously manages to plant a bomb,

and as at Bologna, Dublin, Monaghan

puts a mass of concrete and angle-grinders asunder,

leaves jaw and shin bones separate

from the heads and legs to which they were

until seconds ago attached, there

in the foyer for some rank and file cop

to collect, bag and label;

or drives a box of nine inch nails

into what we consider politically expendable eyeballs

at five hundred kilometres per hour.

Such actions are a bonus

and we welcome their contribution

to our ongoing struggle,

though they’re not officially sanctioned.

 

 

Mostly our task is to convince

people we don’t exist,

except in the minds of pink eyed conspiracists;

to tend the fungus doubt

that the likes of you,

dear victim,

probably divide your Mondays

between subsidised yoga and phoning in threats

against yourself.

 

KEVIN HIGGINS

Kevin Higgins: new poem on Tony Greenstein’s expulsion

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The poet Kevin Higgins has been suspended from the party for writing this satirical poem about the Blairs. 


We Are Delighted To Announce
for Tony Greenstein  

The first execution of a man convicted
of using inappropriate language – far too many
exclamation marks and block capitals – to tell
what we realise is ninety nine per cent the truth,
has been successfully carried out.
And it was surprisingly clean.

Bloodless as an office team building session held
in an hotel specially built to mop up the overspill
from the booming funeral parlour next door.

The screeching was confined to
a few pseudonymous moderates
post-coitally whispering the hope
that this legally implemented death
not be the last of its kind.

We must be sure and include
our least favourite black woman, the Irish,
and, at a minimum, one more Hebrew
in the commonsense cleansing we envisage.

KEVIN HIGGINS