Tags
Why is it, our Merv,
That representatives of telcos
(Whose parents have not entered into wedlock)
Stand at great distance from those in their care
And upon us scorn, indifference and arrogance, they heap.
Why dost thou not simply deny them the libation of barley and the essence of pink ?
For they placeth on hold our inquiry, these many seasons
And they handeth us over to some other goose who knows not the difference
betwixt their anus and their elbow
They knoweth not how to solveth our problems of incomprehensible billing
They dwell in the house of some foreign landlord
Indifferent to our suffering.
To them we insist must go yesterday’s wedges
And the shitty seats close to the men’s urinal.
For the telco-wrath of the Pig’s patrons is great
The memories of the public bar are long
And the honeyed taste of revenge on the telcos is sweet indeed.
Thus spaketh the customer.
Window Dresser's Arms, Pig & Whistle 
An old book called the bible seemed right;
For reading in bed in the night.
But the psalms that it spews,
Seem mainly for Jews.
So for some it’s a bit of a blight.
LikeLike
A Limerick on a Psalm – fertile ground indeed !
LikeLike
Oh, you clever lads, talking in sonnets just like. Bonnets, those head-covers in costume dramas for sure are not me. BM, at least those boys from distant lands don’t call you Bluce or Galy, maybe names more suitable for us, the fairer sex. 🙂
LikeLike
We had a ‘Henly’ call, last week!
LikeLike
Were you on good Thames ? Boom tish !
LikeLike
Fanks, Emm.
LikeLike
Dear Merv.
Thy ale is as faithful as thy sausage rolls, ad, yeah, even thy pies.
Yet, they assail me, from foreign lands, pretending to be thy servants.
They call me ‘mate’, and say that their names are ‘Bruce’ and ‘Gary’.
They even try to get me to tarry.
All the while, trying to seduce me away,
from thy faithful ISP.
Oh, Merv, why, oh Merv,
Can thou not bless us, your poor servants,
with faster speeds and better deals?
LikeLike
Go and get your own Psalm, Big, old bean 🙂
LikeLike
And yet, even as dunny door closes
the paper roll and psalms unfurling
throned on his humble varnished wooden seat
the secret poet, a simple man and not a cheat,
but clearly also not a Moses
Not in stone but humble paper roll
He pushes with his pen the words remaining
flowing with the peace and quiet
serenity relieved by noise of straining,
constipation does extract a heavy toll
His psalms at StJudes might cause a riot
LikeLike
Three sheets is all it takes. Six if you’re a wildly enthusiastic participant and a scruncher. Economy of words The result of concentration, peace and serenity. The rewards of a high fibre diet. And a long drop. Mozzie coil optional.
LikeLike
And still with furrowed brow
those words somehow perceived
will hover for some while
like waves upon ship’s bow
this endless flow of precious words
with soothing salty wedges and schooner lagers
shit a brick, where do they come from
I’spose the same as flying birds
LikeLike
What’s the name of the statue on the bonnet of Rolls Royces, Gez ? “Winged something” ? Your words are like her – an ornament to my bonnet 🙂
LikeLike
Pardon me Sir,
Your sonnet is showing on your bonnet.
LikeLike
Yes, the days of PMG are long gone. We now are supposed to have the freedom ‘to choose,’ which of course in the telephony world of today is so technical that the benefits of competion are biased to the ‘service provider’, cunningly taking advantage of the complexities and talking to us in a language that is incomprehensible. As Emmjay so poetically observed, “just bend over and cough, your wallet will easily open up.”
LikeLike
These uncomfortable contracts are what bother me. Long after there is no phone, there is a contract. These days the objects are merely an excuse for an agreement of service. We focus our attention on the phone, pretty and shiny, and overlook the pages of tightly printed text which are going to tie us down. Computers do the same thing. These days you buy a song from an online shop, and it is only the limited sound of that song that you buy, where in the past you had it until you scratched the media and it didn’t come out any more. We pay for connections between ourselves and others.
LikeLike
But those connections make us uncomfortable, and even though we have paid for them, we avoid them. The company wins the staring game. It’s a funny thing.
LikeLike
Well spaketh the customer! LOL!
When still living on the farm, we did our shopping in Goulburn,then took a shortcut home through little villages. When we spotted a Telstra truck next to humble little fibro building with not such a humble title “School of Arts”, we smelled trouble…
Hubby used say: The phones will not be working… He was usually right. Those Telstra boys used to play games… Today we cut the Oosties’ phoneline off, we show those arrogant city folk who’s king in the country…
LikeLike