Wednesday, 11 February 2015

The random man's arse

I received some random text messages from a friend today:

A random man on the tube called me a f***ing smartarse this morning
This is very true
A random man on the tube called me a f***ing smartarse this morning
Because I touched his shoe

Maybe it's just me, but this sounded like a daft poem. My brain immediately decided it had to try and join in. I didn't really get a choice in the matter - my brain just seems to like daft poems.

The random man’s arse was not so smart
It hung below his knees
He swung it up between his legs
To give a cooling breeze
I asked him not to swing his arse
But he ignored my earnest plea
Instead he swung it round his face
And said he could not see
To try and stop that swinging arse
I grabbed a-hold his shoe
I tied it to its neighbour
With a clever knot I knew
He tripped and fell upon his arse
(still wrapped around his head)
He cursed and yelled and bawled my name
And me... I turned and fled.

Apparently the original messages weren't meant to be a poem - the repeated line was just my friend's phone screwing up. Thank you, friend's phone, your mistake gave me another daft poem to add to my collection. And that brings to mind a Neil Gaiman quote I kinda like:

I hope you'll make mistakes. If you're making mistakes, it means you're out there doing something. And the mistakes in themselves can be useful. I once misspelled Caroline, in a letter, transposing the A and the O, and I thought, "Coraline looks like a real name..."

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