My brother texted me last night.
“I was going to read your latest blog post but I was tired so thought…Fuck It”
Very droll. (You may need to read the previous posting to get the joke).
It seems there may have been a misunderstanding. There is a clear difference between “Fuck It” (which is just like being a Buddhist), “Fuck That” (which is being quite rude) and “Fuck You” (the value of which is highly contextual).
To illustrate this I have penned a short poem.
Oh Fuck It,
I’m not bothered, really.
But trust me, honey,
there’s no fucking way
I’d Fuck You
this side of Christmas.
You can Fuck That.
I hope that clears things up.
I emailed this poem to Carol Ann Duffy, who kindly responded with an offer to resign as Poet Laureate in my favour on the spot, so that I can impart such gems of semantic interpretation to the whole nation with immediate effect.
Actually that’s a lie. She sent me a link to the West Yorkshire Police FAQ on “harassment”.
I’m starting to wish I had named this blog “OFFICIAL THOUGHTS OF THE POET LAUREATE” and used “Carol Ann Duffy” as my username. It would have made this much easier, even if the ongoing pretence of being a Scottish lesbian may have been a strain. Whilst I do suspect I may well be a lesbian, I am irredeemably English, and it’s hard to hide.