Salon cubists v. Picasso

i'm sitting in Room 41
polishing and cleaning my gun.
when i hear the copy cat blokes
who are scorning my music hall jokes.
but with no worries i'm out of their loop;
just spending time eating my soup
in the finest kettle of fish,
where i'm framing my painting school dish:
it's a masterpiece of the new
with blue leather instead of a shoe.