Oh crazy world where traffic flows through the multicoloured cash flows of abstract economics. And on, past the match-stalk food banks where the huddled homeless crouch in shop doorways, hungry, forgotten, clutching at straws with nothing-left-to-lose, and where limp Union Jacks flag in bag alley, a symbol of the age. Where hope walks blind, where incentive is bent, where portfolios of corruption rewrite laws in retrospect. This England, this hallowed Isle, swinging in the gallows of shame and lies, your people manacled in chains of debt, controlled, spied upon, fearful for their children’s children When will sense prevail? Will nothing stir and nothing ever give?