PORTSMOUTH GRAMMAR SCHOOL

Portsmouth Grammar School
is not despite its labelling a 'grammar school'
far from it
it is, clean and simple
an institute for the learning
of the rich and privileged

Down my street they stroll
the arrogant well-fed well-educated
pricks pricklets and pricklettes
spewed forth from its, in my view,
barracks-like confines.
Down the street they barge
in their pristine black blazers
with a rather belligerent dragon
emblazoned on their smarmy chests

They seem to think they own the street,

we are duty bound to get out the way,

humble peasants in the wake
of the lord of the manor.
Stuck up shitheads

It's particularly galling
to watch them when they file along
on their way to celebrate mass
at the Church-of-England cathedral.
The entire school crowds the pavements
marching past like an army of occupation,
sweeping away any poor passer-by who happens
to come up against their irresistible onslaught

The teachers are revolting,
prig-faced arseholes in gowns,
gowns! as if they were professors
at some ancient university.
Pretentious snotty gits.
I can just imagine them in the cathedral
all down on their knees
to god,
simulating pathetic humbleness
oozing self-righteousness

One day  I was passing by the entrance
and a bunch of their brats were getting off a coach
naturally occupying the entire pavement,
blocking my path.
"Get out the way scumbags!"
I bellowed, they parted, I walked on,
then the teacher alerted to my proclamation called out
"Could I have a word?" or something along those lines
"No" I replied, "You can't,
you can't have a word"
and continued on my way.

I hope he got my point
I'm not sure if he did,
he probably thought I was some sort of roadside bully,
having a go at his nest of charming well-behaved
infant rugger players,

My point was:
the world has no need for institutions like this
nasty self-congratulatory nurseries
for fat-headed steaming smug superiority.