The Boom-boy

The cult of the Boom-boys is sweeping Essex towns. Boom-boys drive vehicles with bass-heavy stereo systems that are sometimes louder than Concorde taking off. Ministers are considering drafting new laws to cope with the problem.

A pavement cracks

A streetlamp warps

The birds fall from a tree

A chunk of Walton's crumbling Naze

Shears off into the sea

A nodding dog implodes inside

A neighbour's 2CV

As Daz the Clacton Boom-boy

Throbs up the 133

The younger bruv

Of Essex man

And loudest thing around

With three grand's worth of Escort

And 10 grand's worth of sound

He cranks the bass-boost clockwise

His girlfriend goes knock-kneed

Her eyeballs strain in sockets

Her nose begins to bleed

The windscreen bows

Her fillings pop

As hair blows round her face

The seaside town begs let-up

From the bowel-shifting bass

It's tinnitus in seven days

When this one's on the case

Wicked Dazza. Wicked.

And get-well-soon to Trace.