‘Slough’ – Sir John Betjeman, 1937
Oh, friendly bombs, descend upon Slough!
It’s no longer fit for humanity,
There’s not even grass for grazing cows.
Come, Death, swarm over!
Let the bombs shatter the sterile cafés,
Filled with air conditioning bright,
With tinned fruits, tinned meats, tinned milk, tinned beans,
Tinned thoughts and tinned breath.
Ravage the chaos they dub a town—
A dwelling for ninety-seven souls,
Where once a week they part with half a crown
For twenty tiresome years.
And take down that man with the double chin,
Who always cheats and always wins,
Who bathes his loathsome skin
In the tears of women:
Break apart his desk of polished oak,
Crush the hands that are so used to stroke,
Shut down his tiresome, filthy joke
And make him shout.
But spare the balding young clerks who tally
The profits of the despicable caddy;
It’s not their fault that they seem so mad—
They’ve tasted Hell.
They cannot help that they don’t hear
The birdsong from the radio near,
They often find themselves in fear
In Maidenhead.
They chat of games and flashy cars
In various faux-Tudor bars,
Afraid to look up and see the stars
But rather burp instead.
In labor-saving homes, with utmost care,
Their wives curl synthetic blonde hair
And dry it in artificially warm air
While painting their nails.
Oh, friendly bombs, come down on Slough
To prepare it for the plow.
The cabbages are on their way;
The earth is breathing out.
What a powerful and evocative poem! Sir John Betjeman’s “Slough” vividly captures a sense of despair and disillusionment with modern suburban life. The poem’s plea for destruction seems to stem from a deep frustration with the soullessness of post-war society, where convenience and conformity overshadow the natural world.
Betjeman’s imagery is striking; he contrasts the artificiality of the “air-conditioned, bright canteens” with the simplicity and richness of nature, longing for a return to more genuine experiences. The references to tinned food and “tinned minds” emphasize the mechanical and lifeless aspects of modern living. There’s a palpable sense of anger directed towards those in power, represented by the “man with double chin,” who embodies greed and moral decay.
Yet, what’s intriguing is the compassion Betjeman shows for the people caught up in this system—the clerks, their wives—who, despite their mundane existence, remain victims of a deeper societal malaise. The closing lines offer a hopeful note, with the image of the earth exhaling and preparing for renewal, suggesting that perhaps from chaos can arise something beautiful and organic.
This poem is a sharp reminder of the tension between industrial progress and the natural world, and the need for authenticity in our lives. What do you think about Betjeman’s perspective on suburban life?