In bedrooms of Australia they are waking up and saying What did I say and you know you should have stopped me and My god did I say that and saying never that’s the end of it no more  I’m giving up and swearing off it while their heads are full of saucepans  falling endlessly to floors made out of steel And they are wearing cast-iron turbans that are growing ever smaller  round their temples while the stereo bangs on: it’s descant sackbuts,  Philip Glass and Chinese Air Force marching bands and whining voices  Is that mine? that try to…