Obama!

I was going to save this for the inauguration, when it would be strictly correct. But what the hell, strike while the muse is smokin’ - as I believe Lord Tennyson used to say...

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Black In The White House

There’s somebody black in the White House
And not just a cleaner or nurse -
Though, granted, there’s quite a big clean-up to do
And the patient can’t get any worse.

There’s somebody black in the White House
I don’t mean a Powell or Rice,
A monger of war or a sour neo-con,
But someone who seems rather nice.

There’s somebody black in the White House
By “black” I do not mean “covert”
But someone whose skin, until now, wouldn’t win.
Yes, the guy at the top can subvert.

There’s somebody black in the White House
It’s one giant leap for mankind
At last the New World has woken itself
And is leaving the old world behind.

There’s somebody black in the White House
Though some of us still have our fears,
Let’s hope it’s not like Thatcher's time as PM
She set women back fifty years.

"Sorry, I'm washing my hair..."

To the Spoon and Syringe, my cosy local, for a pint of bitter. The delightfully downmarket barmaids, Chlamydia and Paploma, are agreeable company, and one can assist in drowning the sorrows of some colourful regulars. There is none more regular than Michael, a self-confessed "subscriber to a 'frequent failures' scheme". He may be the unluckiest man I have ever encountered. For years he has been sighing that he doesn’t have a partner and the girls and I have always lent a sympathetic ear, despite the certain knowledge that only a blind zombie would willingly walk up to him with open arms. So imagine our surprise when he announced recently that he had a date. A woman called Susan had expressed an unlikely interest in him in the library. They were going to go for a Chinese. We were less surprised when, two nights later, he was in again, shuddering over the evening in question and complaining that Susan was dull, unkempt and smelt faintly of halibut. Furthermore, she wouldn’t leave him alone and had called several times that day suggesting another assignation. “What can you say to someone who won’t take ‘no’ for an answer?” he wailed. I dashed home to compose this response on his behalf…

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Song of the Reluctant Date

"I’d love to step out with you Susan, I would
But I don’t have a clean pair of socks
My hairstyle’s not looking as sharp as it should,
And there’s something quite good on the box.
I’ve two pounds and eighty-nine pence in the bank
And creditors haunting my door;
I’m not getting out much these days, if I’m frank
I’m certain I’d be quite a bore.
My small-talking skills would shame Jonathan Ross
For Strictly Come Dancing I can’t give a toss,
Such cultural hardship, alas is my loss,
Just please don’t call up any more."

"I’d love to come dine with you Susan, it’s true
But an auntie in Hendon just died.
There are tax returns back to 2002
Needing urgent attention tonight.
I’m keen to cut back on consumption of oil
So won’t take the car or the bus,
And I’m just getting over a terrible boil,
You wouldn’t believe all the pus.
I’ve foresworn all flesh, all fish and all veg
I’ve given up drinking, I’ve taken the pledge
I’m impotent, flatulent and out on this ledge
I can’t see a future for us."

"I’d love to make love to you Susan, you slag
How many more hints must I give?
Your face is three frogs in a polythene bag
I only have two hours to live.
Repellent impulses I never fullfil
Are really quite few and quite minor.
Satan’s my master and tells me to kill
Anyone with a vagina.
You’d not like my home life, not even a glimpse
I hang out with terrorists, paedos and pimps,
I’m a keen vivisector of puppies and chimps
And collector of decorative china."

(Sound of someone ripping out their SIM card...)