Ah, Britain. No, Great Britain: a country so smugly pleased with itself that we actually put an adjective in the name; just on the off chance any other regions were for a moment uncertain of our superior status. During an exchange programme, a few years ago, I realised just how terrible we English are.
Mainly because it means I don’t have to write anything new, and partly because I think it will entertain you, here is (probably) the best thing I’ve ever written – I showed it to my teacher and got a star sticker put on it, if you need proof of the standard.
I used to be very scared of slugs so wrote this pretty speciesist poem when I was 9 or 10 just for fun calling for an international slug cull. Because what child doesn’t have genocide on their mind?
Anyway, here’s my poem about slugs which I rather imaginatively titled: Slugs.
I thought I’d kick this off by giving you an idea of the kind of tone we’re working with. In Year 9, we were told to write a poem about something we were passionate about.
I could have written a poem about something really deep and meaningful but, instead, I wrote it about jam.
I won second prize in that poetry contest and collected £15, because, no, that kind of stuff doesn’t just happen when you land on Community Chest in Monopoly.
Here is said award winning poem: