Spring Forward, Fall Back

What a charming British tradition
Summer Time they call it, oh bless
Every October the clocks go back in unison
All rejoice at an extra hour in bed, no less
But comes Spring, a full hour'll face demolition
The bloody clocks March forward, what a mess

This never fails to cause confusion
Through which the Brits aim to impress
The rest of the world via substitution
Of every common way with one less
Bloody simple. How's that for complication
Whatever next's anyone's guess