Gibberish gushing

Gushing forth the pleasantries of the office tittle tattle — morning, how are you, what did you do last night. Ignoring the burst of smiling and the head down on the laptop as people respond and not an ear pricked in the direction.

Lapsed time turned opened and BBC news read, emails deleted. Cups of coffee, latte fuelled agro by the tills. Double de-caff bollocks please with flip of croissant if you please, says the grey man in the grey suit carrying the grey briefcase inside the grey laptop. Life doubled and measured by the number of crap suits that we attire ourselves with.

Ties and shirts, that’s it with silver cuff-links. Stupid, fatuous garbage we bagged to the hilt with money we owe. Gullible to to ad-mans tongue of what we MUST have. The fast cars with guzzling engines and polluting lungs for all of us to breathe. The fast cars speeding along empty roads carving the nonsense and dullness that is left and the rage of being told the lie.

Fancy magazines trash our stores of stuff, more stuff and more. Stop.

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