Words on the Uselessness of Bin Throwing as a Critical process

Alas poor Cyril, for there is no place
For his couthy Enthusiasm or untutored Grace
In the Groves of Academies or Disinterested Review
His bin-throwing antics are beyond their Purview.

His Habits lack Culture, and speak against Sins
Of theatrical making, and he likes to throw Bins
Through the Windows of Wisdom, Accepted Belief
If he can't be Assassin, he'll make do as Thief.

Back in the day, when the King ruled Supreme
Cyril was philosophe, on the Intellect's Team
Of Thinkers and Poets, of Subverts and Queers
To admonish bad writers and bring them to tears.

No longer the case, it's an End in Itself
This study of playwrights best left on the shelf.
Mad Cyril's antics are reduced to a Lark
No longer a critic, just a Voice in the Dark.

Remember how Voltaire would frequently write
Against his rivals by calling them shite?
How Diderot's Plan to make acting Respectable
Was a secret Attack on what Kings think Acceptable?

Now it's enough to make comment and pass
Onto the next show and it's just a Laugh
To give the star ratings and let them define
What is worthy of funding or gets Time to Shine?

Let this poem be consigned to Cobwebs and Dust.
Let Mad Cyril languish in Anguish and Lust.
His aim it was Careless, his Passions a Sin:
It's hard to be Neutral when heaving a Bin.