On a seedy street in London I found a curious place,
After following a furtive fellow who’d covered up his face.
Its name is Pinocchio’s, so informs a garish sign
And it caters for people you would not call benign.
There’s one to be found in every virtual street,
Hugely popular venues where odd fellows meet.
Confused and angry wee men adore these strange stores,
Filled with ammo created for social media bores.
Inside, idioms and phrases come displayed in neat rows
Political soundbites for those unable to compose their own prose.
‘Take back control’, ‘Neoliberal elite’, ‘anti-establishment,’ and ‘democracy has spoken’.
A parade of pointless platitudes for a society which is broken.
“So much gobbledygook,” uttered I. “what do they even mean?”
“Who knows? Who cares?” replied the assistant with an over-sized beam.
“Pret-a-porter slogans have become massive money-spinners,
For Machiavellian men in the shadows; the ultimate winners.”
“Globocap, the Great Reset are the latest gems, just come in,
from the company who designs them, Messrs Bannon & Putin.
Can I interest you in a platitude or maybe even more?
But if you’re not going to buy, then I’ll show you the door.”
“Incidentally, why Pinocchio’s?” I asked before being ejected.
Appalled, disillusioned, disappointed, and dejected.
“An in-joke,” he answered with a wink and a sneer.
“But if you get it, it’s unlikely you’d ever shop here.”
