Coffee and Mayonnaise…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s existential angst is centred around the sound of the word lurid.

Last Thursday afternoon I was sitting in my favourite cafe; I was listening very carefully to the barely discernible snatches of customers’ conversation swimming to me through the general hubbub; I was jotting some of them down in my little notebook for possible inclusion into a future blog post. (Click)
Suddenly a bony hand from behind closed on my left shoulder and gripped it reasonably hard – I jumped. Then a voice, accompanied by the smell of sweaty alcohol, whispered close to my right ear, ‘What’s all that crap you are writing?’ it said. The hand relaxed and a shabby figure slid into view at my side – it was of course Tony Mayonnaise, ne’er-do-well poet from the glory days of the Hull Surrealist League.
‘I saw you through the window – I’ll bet you’d like to buy me a grande cappuccino, and a panino, or perhaps a toasted teacake,’ he said.
‘You’d bet wrong,’ I said, as I rubbed my shoulder – it didn’t really hurt, the rubbing was more for show. Mayo is too much of a weakling to do any damage.
‘So, what’s this crap you are writing then Davey-boy?’
I explained that the crap was for my blog.
‘Still doing that tripe then?’ he said.
‘Yes,’ I responded, ‘still doing it…’
He wandered off, and quickly returned with a small coffee, but no foodstuffs, and uninvited, he joined me at my table. He glanced at my notebook and after a period of grunting and beverage slurping he asked if he could use a few of my ‘overheard’ and ‘misheards’ in his new spoem (spoof poem).
I said that he could, and that they couldn’t do anything but improve it…

Wellington bass-bow corselet,
Clipped stance rubber rumba charge coat.
I’m leaking this to Nigel!
Grey mound technical with mucus scrubs. Food…

Gulag ash-boot darkness,
Carnival bruise shuffling rubber river badge.
Tammy will take this too!
Petroleum sand japes and overcast dish. Sex…

Diamond hearthrug mutter spout,
Rubber pauper collets half bastard rings.
That’s how we put it on Sammy!
Peanut chick-roof with gondolier. Money…

Ridgeway pelts grease-tape aces,
Garter boot rubber torch note Wellington.
I’m here Andrew, I’m here!
Secret dice bend and date triangle. Cars…

Gusset plan hot night pit peas,
Raiment particle rubber gong peck.
Paul, he is looking very well!
Pepper coat rainbow with chime dock. Celebrity…

Frozen jewel carton dandy felt,
Semiotic rubber rain-box dank soups.
It was free in there today!
Jolly upset brain-fold and titbit. Sport…

Tony Mayonnaise 2018.

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 abstract, art, brain, cafe, composition, conversation, Dulltown, existentialism, Hull.UK., humour, misheard, overheard, poetry, serendipity, style, surrealism, words, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Coffee and Mayonnaise…

  1. Jheron Bash says:

    You & Tony a writing duo, eh? Like a surreal Lennon & McCartney. Are you going to set this piece to music? Go on, you know you want to!

  2. Sharon Mann says:

    Oh that Tony, haha. I’m with Jheron with the music.

  3. Jheron Bash says:

    Just realised – this also works really well if you read the verses backwards. Just a thought.

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