The Oligarch
I do not envy Jeff Bezos his billions
I ask myself the following questions:
He’s just got up, in the loo, taking a shit
Is it more or less painful than when I do it?
Does his morning coffee taste better than mine
Or is it of an extraterrestrial kind?
Have his taste buds, his sense of smell been enhanced
As the magnitude of his finance advanced?
Chauffeur-driven to work in his Bentley
Whilst I cycle to school on my Raleigh
I surely have more fun more exercise than him,
And unlike mister B need not go to the gym.
If I were greeted by clients and minions
Because I have made several billions
With fake grins, put-on warmth and forced smiles
I’d blush to the ears and run a mile.
My rowdy kids give me funny looks and a wink
But Sir is a good sport is what they think.
My colleagues are my friends and my allies
Not praying for my company to capsize.
Whilst Jeff’s partners will tell him what he wants to hear
Mine will tell me, stop moaning just buy me a beer.
The billionaire deals with dozens of men a day
Stuffed with ulcer pills and cups of latte
He regrets having had to compromise
And tonight he will have to pay the price:
Migraine and a nightmare ridden sleepless night
He seems to be losing his taste for a good fight.
Lesson today’s not easy, I warned my class
And they listened to me as on a Sunday Mass
As I wax lyrical about Pythagoras
Sir they chorused it was great and didn’t bore us.
Which was music to the ears of this math teacher
Vanity being a factor to human nature.
After two hours’ marking, my time’s my own
But Jeff often works until almost dawn.
I watch tv, read a bit, and fuck my wife
But Jeff leads a life riddled with stress and strife.
My head hits the pillow and I am snoring
Whereas the oligarch is moaning and groaning.
The morning finds me refreshed and chirpy
And the oligarch depressed and grumpy.
.
Of course he has a super yacht costing him
Millions, but prone to sea-sickness I can’t swim.
He has rockets, wants to win the galactic race
But I’m not in the least interested in space.
The man assuredly has what it takes
But his billions don’t take the edge off his pains and aches
.
I don’t want a Gashütte watch or a Rolex
I’m perfectly satisfied with my Timex
Which loses under three seconds every fortnight
Not something which I deem a disastrous blight
As I have until now never been bit
By the virus urging me to go into orbit.
A vegan I’ve no use for lobster or caviare
I can live on pappadum and achaar.
The thought of Veuve Cliquot or Mouton Rothschild
Does not drive this abstemious teetotaller wild
.
But if you ask me Would I trade places with him
I’d say, You bet, d’you think I’m dumb or dim?
