Tea flows like the River Thames, While tutting spreads like wildfire At queue-jumpers And umbrella-shirkers, As passive-aggressive notes flourish Like ivy on garden walls A POLITE NOTICE: Your parking leaves much to be desired.
———
Digestive biscuits dunk and drown In piping hot Tea at 4 o'clock sharp, Followed by a national moment of silence, As Scones wage their silent war Devon versus Cornwall; The cream-first heretics Face jam-first purists, While the cucumber sandwiches mediate, Their crusts banished like medieval traitors.
———
The weather forecast foresees Cloudy with a chance of small talk, And a 90% probability Of complaining about the weather. Shorts and sandals brave December, While summer coats guard Against the August sun, And somewhere, someone Is wearing socks with sandals. Ooh, Suits you, Sir!
———
Red buses pass red buses Followed by a ritual of waiting, Until the bus arrives Five minutes late, of course. While Big Ben counts the moments As patience is wrapped in politeness, Where every grumble is a nod, Until the next apologetic shuffle.