Mayonnaise rubs elbow…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s existential angst is centred around the sound of the word topiary. (T)

As it is currently UK City of Culture here, there is an open-topped double-decker bus you can go on which takes you round the town for views of the more attractive buildings and places of interest; on the bus there is a ‘host’ or a tour guide with a microphone who tells you as you trundle along all about the varied attractions of this fair city.
I’ve not actually been on it of course, but on Tuesday as it was gliding past me in a light drizzle by Monument Bridge (I was on my way to have a jolly good sneer at the Turner Prize exhibition) I became aware of some sort of commotion taking place on the upper deck of the vehicle – I could hear foul language being uttered and I also glimpsed some scuffling going on up there. The bus suddenly slammed on its brakes and bounced to a halt slightly on the kerb a few feet in front of me. The doors clattered open and a scruffy grinning male person was ejected head first; he stumbled forward and landed with a thud on his bony knees on the wet pavement.
The shabby figure, now sitting massaging a bruised elbow, looked up at me. ‘Oh hello Dave,’ it said…
Of course it was Tony Mayonnaise, poet from the glory days of the Hull Surrealist League. ‘I was only giving those miserable bastards a free reading of my new spoem!’ (spoof poem) he added. Mayo can never resist an open microphone if there is one to grab.
‘Here!…’ he pushed a crumpled piece of cheap lined paper into my hand, ‘Take this home with you and put it on that crappy blog thing that you do – it’s really great! I don’t want it back, I know it by heart now…’

Floms dittle araganza moll etti,
Boonoss o brattah-brattah o mong.
Zon-ook fecknell omlo razzer-dazzer!
Panard zush noid o noid umastig ib?
Upsta flang – gath gath gath gath…

Capstillion ditzer bune-bubby etti,
Soonoss quoof o quoof hozy-hozy-hozy!
Blon-ook cutch omlo dethermyte tig.
Almnoid noid infermaly flam o guph?
Lopsta flang – muth muth muth muth…

Anvordible apters kutch kotch etti,
Moonoss shoy noll o noll beooth.
Glon-ook streppie omlo famdashalaise.
Panard-du quallis feelage pathness?
Dithta flang – koth koth koth koth…

Razmic ploomettes o bubby slaim etti,
Gloonoss abracam soith merradillo thit.
Dyon-ook draxy omlo spendoori init?
Aktoi mummins zettle guph o bem.
Muxta flang – tith tith tith tith…

Tony Mayonnaise 2017.

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in adjectives, art, brain, composition, creation, drama, existentialism, expletives, Hull.UK., humour, information, poetry, style, surrealism, words and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Mayonnaise rubs elbow…

  1. Dana Doran says:

    Well, Tony should have anticipated the reaction……the whole spoem is a bit too reactionary, don’t you think?

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