Best Place on Earth


Gillingham the best place on Earth,


Where police roam and hoodlums hide,
Children scatter after graffiti writing,
On bikes and boards to the nearest clearing,
A park or forest wherever easier,
Its still freezing, wet, and damp,
With misery met right in your face.


As for Croydon its filled with,
Chics and dicks and e’en more so dickheads,
The shouts and clouts, spills and tumbles,
Bears no thrills in me anymore,
I’m bone sore with grievousness,
Tone deaf from the knocks,
Squinting slyly for no reason.

Then as for London town’s rolling cars,

Directing signs for lost travellers,

Posts posted firmly against mystified walkers,

Fences built and windows boarded up.

Rubbish bags flung outside disdainfully.


Hustle and bustle on tube, train and bus,

Pushing, squeezing and sneezing,

A man says desperately blurting,

“Bust me your travelcard bruv?”

“Please!” He screams in dire need,

“I’ve been waiting to go home since three!

All I need to do is take the 176B!”


Okay – I’ve decided,

Gillingham is the Best place on

Earth.

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