He is the complete modern man
With taste and interests wide;
His mind is open so we can
So simply step inside.
His politics are open plan,
He’s neither left nor right;
Because he aims to please,
our man Is nothing but polite.
No frenzied intellectual,
Though he’s read a book or two;
And knows it is effectual
When you can misquote a few.
Dickens, of course, and Trollope,
Jane Austen for the frocks:
He takes literature by the dollop
But he prefers it from the box.
He reads the Sunday papers
Where art’s defined as fashion,
Poses, stunts and capers,
Bald lust disguised as passion.
When tempted to religion
He excused it as aesthetic;
And owned it as a smidgin,
Social conscience and cosmetic.
He loves religious ornament
And is graciously liable
To compliment the style (not sense)
Of phrases from the Bible.
When it comes to God and true belief
He admits impediment:
‘I do not think we can retrieve
The Greek New Testament.’
So he does not believe in God
Or Christ raised from the dead;
Spectators though may think it odd
What he believes instead:
Progress and technology,
Cultural nostalgia,
Diets, modern psychology
And spiritual omniphagia.
And when there comes the great assize,
God’s knock upon his door,
Our man will cut Him down to size:
‘You’re just a metaphor!’
Peter Mullen