Bacon has reserved seat 63D
on the 7:09 train to London Euston.
But it won’t sit down. It’s wandering

through the carriage in a cheeky mood,
winking at the businessman pretending
to listen to his Zoom call about projections

for the next financial year. It’s whistling
up the nostrils of the snoring mum clinging
on to one chance of uninterrupted sleep.

It’s using its hands to mimic reeling in a fishing rod
in the direction of the starving vegetarian.
Bacon does not care it’s a Thursday.

“Let’s be having you!” it yells, thrusting its hips
to the rhythm of Hakuna Matata.
 
Carl Burkitt 2026