Extinction

Jackie Kay

We closed the borders, folks, we nailed it. No trees, no plants, no immigrants. No foreign nurses, no Doctors; we smashed it. We took control of our affairs. No fresh air. No birds, no bees, no HIV, no Poles, no pollen. No pandas, no polar bears, no ice, no dice. No rainforests, no foraging, no France. No frogs, no golden toads, no Harlequins. No Greens, no Brussels, no vegetarians, no lesbians. No carbon curbed emissions, no CO2 questions. No lions, no tigers, no bears. No BBC picked audience. No loony lefties, please. No politically correct classes. No classes. No Guardian readers. No readers. No emus, no EUS, no Eco warriors, no Euros. No rhinos, no zebras, no burnt bras, no elephants. We shut it down! No immigrants, no immigrants. No snivelling-recycling-global-warming nutters. Little man, little woman, the world is a dangerous place. Now, pour me a pint, dear. Get out of my fracking face. JACKIE KAY is a Scottish-born poet who has published five collections of poetry for adults, and several for children. The Adoption Papers won the Forward Prize, a Saltire Award and a Scottish Arts Council Book Award.