I found him atop
Piles and piles of white goods
Whilst sauntering with
The haves and the have should’s
Of a shopping mall push
And shove
rushing rush
Of a half price silk sail
a flapping flail
whipped me
the white goods machines
released me
Stacked in comet and MFI
With a blazing trail
Of a salesmans eye
They march everywhere

And now

May I introduce?

The latest must have

A carpet mowing machine-
A electronic robot-
Vacuum thingya magic clean-
A robotic hoover
From the dream team that bought you  the Dyson
Or Mike Tyson when he was fighting fit
On the telly satellite feeds bit and
The belly of the shopping class
Is exposed
slowly revealed like the nipple of a tit
and mottled with the spit of anarchic rejection
the overthrows of adverts
The laura ashley lesson  bed spread alerts
As the mistress flirts with the wallet
and the dandy buys velvet and sings sonnets for tea
to keep her

Yes from the creators of
Plasma
From the creators
Of
'the bread of the machine'
The sandwiched toaster
from your wedding
The paper cutter
That’s shredding
Any evidence
That your in debt
And yet
You still splash out
Robbie the robot
Is here
He’s cute
And some daft dear on QVC has anamorphised him
And its clear what he’s gonna do
Vacuum
Once done with the carpet
He’s after your soul
Once done with the shopping channel
He makes your heart
The goal
With a smily face
painted on
In a factory by another robot

Robbie clean the floor
Robbie
Love me just a little bit more
Than my partner does
For I found therapy in daytime tv
And the tragedy of shopping alone
With borrowed cash
I kick start the brash day
With you
Electronically mine
Robbie
Vacuum, hoover
You make the moves so much smoother
Than I ever I ever could
Because  you can
And because you should
What do you say to a fifty grand
hatstand
except 'youre' fantastic'
a big improvement of fabric elastic and a partner
past it tongue flick a bit faster, baby
And when your done
Turn your rubber hand on
And Service me with a thousand of
Your very best Tefal oscillations
Crotchless and bored with the predictable rotations
Of the high speed spin
Sat a top a washing machine
I dream of large forehead men in lab coats

And then do the lawn
And cook the tea.
And paint yourself white
More politically correct
A slave
You see.

Robbie
recharge yourself and love me