The stripy blazer doesn’t match the pants
belonging to his suit, the Hush Puppies
worn for comfort, the rain mac — once his aunt’s —
tied by a length of string. Chelsea yuppies
mistake him for a shuffling derelict
on the Embankment, where he hums and sings
Cole Porter and recites some lines he’s picked
from ‘Ode to Joy’ and Idylls of the King.
Disagree with half of it, enjoy reading all of it
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