England Expects

I while ago my girlfriend sent me a poem by Clare Kirwan entitled 'England Expects'. This poem, to me, is a valuable snapshot of the state of England and I reproduce it here in full. Link to he website.

England expects England expects to wait in line, to be on time, a seat given up for the elderly, a forest of hands at the call for volunteers, a space in the car park and later the car to still be there. England expects changeable weather, a spate of burglaries, postal strikes, council tax, trains delayed, letters of complaint to go unanswered, the quiet loner to be a pedophile nothing to change. England expects to win the lottery, no matter how unlikely, to never see a soldier from another country, to win in the final moment, in injury time, to lose in the final moment, in injury time, to vomit late-night fast food England expects welfare, shelter, food, water, a good range of choices a la carte, quality items at the lowest prices, any fruit or vegetable in every season, someone else to pick up litter. England expects new houses and green spaces to reduce asthma, to drive everywhere, immediate service, fewer refugees a place in heaven – near the front, a clamp down on asylum. England expects everything to be ‘for the best’ them to know what they are doing the right thing to happen – without a battle, without many voices raised despite the quiet apathy of the multitude

[Apologies for the lack of formatting here]