To the one in the middle
the Fashionista
She was so blonde
With her face of alabaster
She was blue and dark at once
Well blue goes with everything
You nonce
It goes with jet black
And cream
It goes like a riverboat dream
She was all about the women in
Between the noughties
And the blue sky
And she read about the Beatles
The History of Shell
She sucked the oil slick up, slick
She was sick as well
Can you believe her
What a statement
Modern fashionista
Modern fascist fashion
With the moustache as well
And Nationalism on the playing cards
Hitler, Mussolini
Dictator top Trumps
Trumped by Trump
And the gene pool is too small
On this crabby island
It is too tight and cruel
And we burn witches too
Who do? You do?
You do, voodoo!
No, you do!
You remind me of the girl
I once knew next door
Down the road
Who was blonde-haired and blue-eyed
And fair
And next door to her was a pig tailed ginger mop
Whose green eyes glowed
Like emeralds against her pale skin
But the fashionista hasn't seen her
Hasn't seen the Irish Vista
Hasn't witnessed Scottish skulk
And Hulk and Sulk over shipwrecked bulks
Of fashion and blue Whales
Washed up on green seaweed shores
No sadly the fashionista never saw
She moved to Brighton and became a mermaid
But when the fishermen saw her, they caught her
And chopped off her tail
And so now she swims with a wooden tail
Which is very difficult because wood floats
But instead of synchronised swimming routines
She began to sell Brighton rock and she left
Her wishes in them
Little messages
“Please help me I'm in Brighton”
“Not all that glistens is gold”
And
“A mermaid's life is never free
For you're caught between a Rock
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