Stop all the clocks

a climactic moment in a nation's history
a tearful stream of instant historians
dabbing at eyes with order papers
the great silence falling and

with a nervous eye on the borders
and orders to check on the ravens
Britannia settles in for a few
years bereft of the bongs

this, clearly, is a crisis
a sorrowful parade shake their
heads at the past sloughing off
like a comfy skin no telling

what might come next they
might ban tea, abolish queuing
lock up John Humphrys close
Marks and Sparks it could happen

I mean look at Suffrage, what happened
next? Nazis, that's what, it's been
all downhill since Wat Tyler and now
they want to deprive us of this

there's no issue more pressing today
(though bake-off on four runs it
close, probably have them all
doing it naked, bloody hipsters)

and I could write a verse here
about child poverty
or the cull of the disabled
or the rise of racism
or the death of society
or any one of a number of things
but I think
you probably worked that one out already