Meringue Pupa, Tranquilized Bomb,
Eleventh-Hour Udder,
He went by many names
But today
Moomintroll is shrink-wrapped on the gammon carousel
At Waitrose
His fat in circles round him like a hoopla rod
His veranda made of scrapped electric kettles and their flexes
Has been upended, propped against a public statue
As a weekend lean-to pissoire
Poor Moomintroll went swimming in the harbour
Where Ancient Regimes
Had dumped their million guillotines
Waves merely rolled their million silted mechanisms
Dice dice dice
Rumour, though, suggests dementia
After ten years as a full-time semen donor
His sex identical to windscreen wipers
Though renegade and
Twice as squeaky
Whatever
Death the Chiropractor culled
His valley calcium
Manipulated his cranial sac
And turned his plush into a single-seater
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Going To A Plate Spinner's BBQ? Don't Forget Your Splashguards! Or this is Limbo.
Wossat? Some mosser's tie-dyed a pride of wild lions, the miscreant gummed up a tree and dripped warm wax onto the sleeping mustard-coloured carnivores, then sprayed the Serengeti with plant dyes, then shouted 'oi oi twenty nonplussed concussed clueless zebras ahoy oi oi!' so the big game gamboled off, the plant dyes stuck where there was no wax and the lions came back batiked like 70s squatter types and the males dreadlocked their manes and sought meaning in their splash patterned pelts, and the females went into selling territories that they defined by their urine, and the moral of the mise en scene is this: tie-dying/batik does not endow the wearer with natural authority and fences are better than urine when it comes to property disputes. Replacing somebody's fence with your own is a lot more time consuming than replacing their wiss with yours -- they're not going to go to all that trouble. Humans we should strap ourselves into our shoes and strap our shoes to a ten foot tether and range in than radius -- result -- no carbon footprint but plenty of footprint footprint. Bet you never spend time with your footprint under ordinary circumstances, bet you walk away from them, wouldn't it be nice to hang out, have quality time: hi there weight-bearing base of me, load takers, take me wherers, let me serenade all the bitty bones of you and find out what shoe you really like -- you choose differentiation you want to look like individuals not a matching set -- that foot on your other leg must have a different angle, be a different size, different height style gait the other! Do not stand so flipping close, stop copying me, yell the feet to each other! Stop stalking me -- take out an injunction right foot against left vice versa too -- you got no right and you got nothing left! Escalation, send for the diplomatic corps chiropodists and podiatrists and peace corps reflexologists. Animals with hoofs claim neutrality! Claims, counterclaims, that foot makes me hop, jump and that foot comes down after me so I land first and get the bangrattle in my tarsus sploinknunk. Oh no foot disputes! The hundred year foot war has begun. Left feet fight right feet, two pavements built with a wall down the centre to separate them so anyone with both factions has to straddle it, shoe shops left feet merchandise in one, right feet merchandise in the other, each develop own antagonistic cultures, peoples go bowlegged and do splits to maintain maximum distance, and footwearstyle and games and hopscotch cultures vary wildly from the end of one leg to the other. Tut tut. Dancers have to choose which foot they'll perform on. Choreographers opt then hop. Footballers -- oh my! Right Foot Cup, Left Foot Premiership. What shall we do! Mass foot amputation, horror, no, foot dumps, rollerskate camps, foot deodorisers sabotaged, boot dispute, laces divided! Oh how are the arches fallen! Time to buy into the property-built-on-the-back-of-a-stampede market, I have, two town houses and an office block built on a cattle stampede that's been roaming for fifteen years with no signs of being rounded up and dispersed. Great value for a first time buyer. Finally, a piece of timely advice: never play poker with literalists -- all you'll win is pokers, those slender, fire adjusting metal rods. I learnt that the hard way.
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