The modern girl dons her modern suit

Designer bra and pants

Big tall tough shoes make her ten feet tall

She’s taking all she wants

 

She sinks a pint of Courage Best

Then six Beck’s by the neck

She draws real hard on her cheroot

And gobs upon the deck

 

Designer ‘phone, designer blade

The only stiletto here

“You want some? Think you’re ‘ard enough?”

Another crate of beer

 

No place for men in this girl’s world

Unless her jar lid’s tight

Not for cooking: Pickled gherkins!

“You wanna start a fight?”

 

Femininities coffin laid to rest

Amidst a sea of puke and coke

And nine inches of warm plastic

Mean no need for a bloke

 

Unless she wants a designer male

As accessory or coat-stand

To quietly accept her mouths decibels

Awhile she’s addressing her Amazon band

 

And is dismissive of the air-head blonde

With her high heels and grace

Not appreciating she’s a mirror

But much more “In Yer Face”

 

Does she feel she’s equal to all men

By mirroring their worst

Football facts and fucking

Last England world cup hat-trick – Hurst

 

Deep within is she a lonely child

Simply wishing to go far

Not so easy to accomplish

When she can’t reverse or park her car

 

And when she’s driving, the girl racer

Exhumes its ugly head

From a time when fast meant everything

Now usually it means dead.

 

But when the performing stage is empty

And she’s sitting home alone

When the posture counts for nothing

And no-one’s on the ‘phone

 

Does she curse cat and life’s fortune

In curses Anglo-Saxon

Or is she graceful and demure

When she hasn’t got her slacks on

 

Does she consider her future’s path

Whether single she wants to stay

Does she appreciate it’s her own conduct

That drives the blokes away

 

How her public face screams conflict

Could he face that every morn

What when she catches him seeking solace

From his hidden cache of porn

 

Didn’t her mother ever tell her

The ways of the world and men

It’s about getting on together

Not about getting one over on them

 

 

At least it’s a comfort to all men

The world’s state as they get old

In future modern girls get their aggression out

On Juno, Omaha, Sword and Gold