The Humble, Gentle Sprout

I am a humble, gentle sprout,

I mean no ill or harm;

How can I be of any threat?

You can fit me in your palm!

I am a simple, healthy veg,

Little sister of a cabbage.

I do not wish to hurt or maim;

I am not wild or savage...

Until...

I see a BOFmobile. 

Chrome glinting in the sun.

Then my placid air wears thin

And my calmness comes undone.

I feel a rage build in my stalk,

My leaves begin to twitch;

Darkness creeps throughout my veins

And my layers start to itch.

I see the tinted windows gleam;

I note the linen jacket.

Chelsea boots of finest hide

That cost a fecking packet.

Filofax on the passenger seat

Listing several dinner dates;

Financial Times in the back

With circled shares and rates...

Then...

I know what I must do.

I have to make a stand.

Protect the innocent from the BOFs

And purify our land.

I leap towards the windscreen,

War-cry booming from my soul.

No more pacifistic thoughts;

My heart as black as coal.

I hit the target with a SPLAT

Obscuring the BOF's vision;

He swerves onto the muddy verge

And I cackle in derision.

Then night falls upon me;

I'm broken; start to fade.

But as my purée clouds the glass

I know my point's been made.

I may have been a single hit;

A solitary message,

But I will not be the last to fight

And instil a fearful presage. 

How can I scare a BOF, you ask?

Make them shake and twitch their snouts?

It's simple, oh dear reader:

BOFs are terrified of sprouts.

For all their grand bravado,

Their armour has a chink.

They're too intent on following trends 

And worrying what others think.

Sprouts, of course, are not well-liked

And folks are quick to state

That sprouts are something they abhor;

They deeply, truly hate.

So naturally, a BOF will follow

The consensus of the masses;

Not wishing to daringly deviate

From their piers and higher classes.

And that, O brothers, is how we fight.

Give the bourgeois bunch a clout.

The BOFs will never beat this nemesis:

The 'humble', 'gentle' sprout...

The BOF Desk

With readers across the globe, the BOF Warrior army is growing.  As the ranks swell, so does the influx of information and evidence.  We've been sent photographs of BOFmobiles from Italy; BOFwags in Kenya and BOF sightings from Tenby to Trinidad and Tobago!

We thought we'd seen it all...but no.  An anonymous email arrived recently that had us stunned into silence.  No words accompanied the photographic attachment...but no words were required.

What you're about to see is so shocking that you may need a brandy to recover.  We didn't think BOFs could possibly get any more obsessed with their BOFmobiles - but this proves otherwise:

* We've taken the liberty of concealing this BOF's identity with a strategically placed sprout.  If we didn't, we'd get into trouble.  Again.

Not content with terrorising people on their commutes to and from work, it seems that BOFs also need to be surrounded by chrome while in the office.  We believe that the bling lights flash every time the phone rings, the indicators blink into action when a new email arrives and the headlights blind anyone who dares enter the office without express permission.  The car horn is used when the BOF requires his PA to supply a bacon sandwich.

And so The War on BOFs rages on.  Please keep your information coming; we need everything we can get in order to put a stop to this ridiculous, tinted frippery.

In the meantime, we're off to buy more sprouts.