Salon cubists v. Picasso

i'm sitting in Room 41
polishing and cleaning my gun;
i hear the copy cat blokes

as they're scorning my music hall jokes.
but with no worries i'm out of their loop,
just spending time eating my soup

of the finest kettle of fish.

i'm framing my painting school dish:
it's a masterpiece of the new
with blue leather instead of a shoe.