10-12-2015, 05:06 AM
It is by far the biggest document I have,
too large to fit in the flame proof box
they insisted I bought.
I often wondered why it was so big,
perhaps it was to match
the four years of training
that lead to the final signatures.
It was such a proud day,
we were in the boardroom,
the best china was on the trolley
and the tea had been scalded
next to a plate of posh biscuits.
Dad was well prepared,
he had set fire to his nasal hair
with a small party candle
and used half a styptic pencil on his,
over-zealous shaving cuts.
A Brylcreem bounce
set off his best blue suit
and he had spent at least an hour
polishing his slip on shoes.
He always reminded me
of a Teddy Boy when he dressed to impress
and I think he quite liked me saying that.
Mum looked like she was going to be sick with nerves;
I had only seen her in that state on one other occasion
and that was when I asked her what a vagina looked like.
By the time the biscuits got to me
there was only Rich Tea left
and in my book
they don't really make it as a biscuit,
never mind a posh one.
Mum was listening intently
to some big speech
and didn't notice me swap out the Bourbon
that was delicately balanced on the side of her saucer.
The document that followed the biscuit plate
was as big as the Times newspaper.
Signed first by the Power Station manager,
then dad and finally passed to me.
Nobody told me not to put my tea cup on it
and the ring that followed still makes me smile today.
It seemed to be the only thing mum was bothered about,
it was the same when I put a greasy finger print
on cousin Pats wedding album.
The station manager gave a little speech
about electrical engineering in modern factories
and made some smart arse comment about me,
now being competent to wire a plug.
"You do know how to wire a plug" he asked.
"Of course I do, red to green, blue to bits"
I said hoping for a laugh
that never came.
I always thought indentures
were something you kept in a jar
at the side of the bed,
now I know that they are far too big
and important for that.
It’s in the loft somewhere,
lets hope we don't have a fire.
too large to fit in the flame proof box
they insisted I bought.
I often wondered why it was so big,
perhaps it was to match
the four years of training
that lead to the final signatures.
It was such a proud day,
we were in the boardroom,
the best china was on the trolley
and the tea had been scalded
next to a plate of posh biscuits.
Dad was well prepared,
he had set fire to his nasal hair
with a small party candle
and used half a styptic pencil on his,
over-zealous shaving cuts.
A Brylcreem bounce
set off his best blue suit
and he had spent at least an hour
polishing his slip on shoes.
He always reminded me
of a Teddy Boy when he dressed to impress
and I think he quite liked me saying that.
Mum looked like she was going to be sick with nerves;
I had only seen her in that state on one other occasion
and that was when I asked her what a vagina looked like.
By the time the biscuits got to me
there was only Rich Tea left
and in my book
they don't really make it as a biscuit,
never mind a posh one.
Mum was listening intently
to some big speech
and didn't notice me swap out the Bourbon
that was delicately balanced on the side of her saucer.
The document that followed the biscuit plate
was as big as the Times newspaper.
Signed first by the Power Station manager,
then dad and finally passed to me.
Nobody told me not to put my tea cup on it
and the ring that followed still makes me smile today.
It seemed to be the only thing mum was bothered about,
it was the same when I put a greasy finger print
on cousin Pats wedding album.
The station manager gave a little speech
about electrical engineering in modern factories
and made some smart arse comment about me,
now being competent to wire a plug.
"You do know how to wire a plug" he asked.
"Of course I do, red to green, blue to bits"
I said hoping for a laugh
that never came.
I always thought indentures
were something you kept in a jar
at the side of the bed,
now I know that they are far too big
and important for that.
It’s in the loft somewhere,
lets hope we don't have a fire.
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
