If (Rudyard Kipling Could See This He’d Be Spinning In His Grave)

If you can post some news when all about you

Are posting memes and getting spellings wrong,

If you can be quite sure you’re not about to

Post cheesy lyrics from some random song;

If you can skip a ton of invitations

To play a game you fear would drive you mad,

If you refuse to watch as your relations

Reveal each racist thought they’ve ever had:


If you can pause when someone starts to poke you;

If you don’t wince when someone calls you ‘hun’;

If you just breathe and not let them provoke you

Unless, of course, they try to quote The Sun;

If you can bear to read their pass-agg whining

Their veiled barbs, aimed at the latest bloke,

Or view the endless photos of their dining,

And still resist the urge to crack a joke.


If you can laugh when they request you copy

And paste the status, to prove that you care,

And even if you know they will get stroppy

Remember that ‘one like’ is not ‘one prayer’;

If you survive them tagging you in pictures

Of fluffy cats. With messages of hope

And keep yourself from posting biting strictures

Displaying all the patience of the pope!


If you can learn to hide notifications

About a baby that you’ve never met,

Or your ex-colleague’s cousin’s lamentations

About the job they really hoped they’d get;

If you can just ignore ‘it’s complicated’

If you’re too wise to fall into that trap.

‘Twas not for you that Facebook was created,

And – which is more – I doubt you’d read this crap.

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