Lost Planet
This is a hostile environment.
The natives are wrestlers.
They specialise in red tape, red tape, red tape.
They live in a place called the past.
They are a mystery, even to one another.
This is a hostile environment.
This is a hostile environment.
Here there is jobsworth, here there is pinstripe.
The weeds crawl from orifice to orifice.
Here you can hear paper-clips massing.
Here you can hear windrush through the cobwebs.
This is a hostile environment.
This is a hostile environment.
The natives are as hard as knells.
Their hearts are kept in box files.
In the alcoves, you can hear them rear their memoranda.
They have eaten the proof in the pudding.
This is a hostile environment.
This is a hostile environment.
It should be sent back where it came from.
It should be denied permission to land.
It has out-stayed its welcome.
Send it home, send it office.
This is a hostile environment.
Click here for a Guardian article about the lost planet.
Click here for a Spectator blog about the Windrush scandal.
