by Nick Gisburne
You’re not allowed to have it. It’s for us,
The talented, contemptuous elite.
We never stoop to bargain or discuss
The reasons for such arrogant conceit.
Within this cosy clubhouse of our own
We snicker as we shame the likes of you.
Unsuitable, rejected, lost, alone,
Your place is with the foolish, not the few.
No time, no taste, no talent gets you in.
We’re cooking, keeping, eating all the cake.
Grow bigger balls, develop thicker skin,
However long this lesson seems to take.
‘Exclusive’ means your face will never fit.
You’re nothing. Never were. Get over it.
