Worryingly.

I entered a poetry competition advertised at school with something I cooked up in half an hour, and amazingly they’re mad enough to want to publish it. (OK, so they don’t seem to be too selective and I have a feeling most of their business model is selling to proud parents).

Here it is, in all its dreadful glory:

I thunder as I debate: bankers,
And their bonuses; and bay for blood.
I sing The Red Flag,
Cry out for socialism
But in my heart
I

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