cut to: a classy black horse / galloping through the grass and the gorse / like some photogenic force / of advertising nature / a strangely mystical creature / its glassy black eyes a prominent feature

joined by hundreds just the same / racing and chasing and tossing their manes / down through the broody CGI rain / to a flat and shining shore / where the bleary townsfolk have been eerily drawn / by the mysterious power of these equine forms / and they laugh and commune and stroke the horses’ noses / (magically cancelling their debts, one supposes)

Lloyds, the banking bucking bronco / stabled in gables of whitewashed stucco / where the public bail out its muck-o / only to watch it go / cantering away without restraint / over the counter and out the gate / through the highways and sly ways of the banking system / (stampeding horses – you can’t have missed ‘em)