Monday, 1 June 2009

Poo-etry


Since that last post I've been going crazy over poetry. I've been eating, drinking, sleeping, but mostly
thinking poetry 24/7. It would probably drive me insane I didn't love the arts so much. It's got to the point where I won't let myself think of oranges, because I am reliably informed that nothing rhymes with the word 'orange'. I have mostly got around this by thinking instead of orange juice (rhymes: goose, moose, loose, noose, spruce, Thomas Turgoose).

Although I feel quite blessed to be so good at the poetry, my life is still not without its worry. And it is through poetry that I share with you something that's been troubling me lately. You see, I sometimes go for lunch in a pub that smells of chip fat. And after just half an hour in said pub, all my clothes smell of chip fat too, making me an easy target for cruel jibes ("Ha, ha, you big chippy twat!"; "Urgh, what are you, a chip or something?"; "Get away from me, you chippy dickhead!" to name but a few). Believe me, I've written poems about this, but these were purely for my own therapeutic use: they got me through some dark days, I can tell you. But, having recovered from my most recent chip-stink trauma, my thoughts turned to an altogether more putrid hypothetical. And that is what my poem is about:

A Genuine Concern by Cube

When a public toilet smells so bad
You have to hold your nose,
How long before that wretched stink
Attaches to your clothes?






















Although I love scientific research, I have neither a stopwatch nor the bravery to face the kind of slurs that the man who finally answers the poem's question will be subjected to. If you are that man (or woman (do women do poos?)) then please let me know, in verse or otherwise. Let us ALL know, so that we may use unpleasant-smelling public toilets safe in the knowledge that we can get out smelling as fresh as we did when we went in, as long as we follow X's Law (where X is your name, brave researcher). If having a poo-smell-clothes-attachment-safety formula named after you isn't incentive enough, then let me offer a bottle Febreze to the lucky winner. A really BIG bottle of Febreze.

No comments:

Post a Comment