A New Bog Seat

[Dylan di Vilde]

Though made of solid teak,
a disconcerting creak
and a recent greenish tinge
plus a budding squeaky hinge
had earned it disapproval
and a call for its removal.
I wouldn’t call it hideous
but women are fastidious.

But the nuts were old and rusted
well and truly busted.
Nothing would unscrew it
so a hacksaw had to do it.

I began to saw and swore
then I swore some more,
just saw and saw and saw
‘til my hands were red and raw.
I damned and cursed and blasted
that rusty-nutted bastard,
crammed beside the upstairs bog
a sweating, swearing, grunting hog.

Finally off it came,
after I’d called it every name.
I could have flung it far
but that would look bizarre -
raging in the street
with a manky toilet seat.

Instead, with cool triumphant glow,
I held aloft my conquered foe
paraded it so all could see
that no-one better mess with me.

Though I’d love to meet the pratt
who screwed it on like that.
The dimwit, bonehead louse
who once lived in this house.
His whereabouts I’d like to trace,
then high up in some public place
the seat would frame his severed head,
below a little note which read:

Impaled upon this pole,
staring through the hole
is the klutz
who used METAL NUTS!

Helping one and all decide
to use the plastic parts supplied. 


 

[Dave]

Funny in parts and a slight Tarantinoesque tendency towards violent resolution
Remind me never to build or repair anything in a house you might live in