We invited the world’s richest man for supper.
He was visiting town, and in the local paper
he looked so lost and lonely. He brought
a mid-price bottle of Chilean Merlot, cat nip
for the dog, and an action figure of himself
dressed as a pharaoh. At the dining table
he kept checking his phone – I could see
the reflection of numbers and bodies
in his cool shades, I could hear the clicks and moans.
When we told him there was no more pudding
he wiped his mouth on the front room curtains
and ordered a driverless cab, which arrived
in minus three seconds. He said, “I could
shaft this country with my little finger.
You nobody people are a big problem.”
He stole our bread-knife and one of our children.
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This article appears in the 21 May 2025 issue of the New Statesman, Britain’s Child Poverty Epidemic