Poetry Corner: Marrying Dan Dare

Sitting at a Portchester bus stop,

Before postmodernity began,

And evolution still tasted fresh,

Like clotted cream inside hot scones,

Dan Dare was my cup of Iranian tea,

As an Eagle among futuristic pilots

In our awfully, awfully, English galaxy,

Of afternoon sandwiches in space.

Before Pomo really began,

I watched his overworked batman,

And red thrusting rocket –

“In the best of all possible tastes”

And cosmic balls on a seasonal willow,

Fielded across Etonian colonies,

By this clean-cut and terraforming Jock

(Forgive the Americana),

Who enjoyed afternoon sandwiches in Space.

I also wanted drinks in lunar pavilions

With a posh art deco atmosphere

And to knock Venusian nerds for six,

Before any postmodernism began,

While sporting an upperclass kiss curl,

Like many a wag down Cosham,

During global Spacefleet briefings

That served afternoon sandwiches in Space.

However, I became postmodern,

And saw truths above adaptation

And blind technologies

And Albert Digby

And blatant privilege.

So, I decided to marry Dan instead,

When eating afternoon sandwiches in Titchfield.

PICTURED: A photo snapshot of the author, who is a local resident living in Fareham and has been for many years.