Your tongue accepts each synthetic host
It’s then, I think, I loathe you most
Stinting salt licked from cracking lips
Do you truly savour those cheapest chips
Where’s satisfaction in that abomination?
Slurried slivers of hydrogenation
Packet polished off unflinching
Packs a potent punch – your penny-pinching
Non-label bought because you’re mean
Your studied parsimony obscene
It matches you: tasteless and terse
Practiced profligacy in reverse
Not sure what it’s meant to signify
That you’re a careful type of guy?
You watch the shrapnel, you ignore the oaks
You’re one of those frugal kind of blokes
I call it stingy and tight-fisted
Who wants pleasures to be resisted
I want lavish, I want spoiling
Not a bag that’s slowly oiling
Up with own brand saturated fat
I want anything but that
Jemima Laing 