Dulltown, UK/Europe: Today’s unusual pencil sharpener is the one shaped like one of Shakespeare’s sonnets. Not very good for soft-leaded pencils, but it feels very comforting in the hand.
Thursday was a grey wet day here in Dulltown. On my way to Wilkos to complain about one of their printer ink cartridges that turned out to not have any ink in it, I noticed a BBC van pulled up onto the pavement. There was a man holding a large umbrella, with ‘BBC’ written on it, over a woman who was standing being filmed interviewing passers-by – probably about the scruffiness of the city centre shopping streets.
Ten minutes later, after a session of spleen venting in the store, I came out to find that the drizzle had morphed into heavy rain, and that also there was now some sort of fracas going on by the van.
The dramatis personae of the fracas comprised: the umbrella man, the interviewer, the camera person (still filming away by the look of him), two shortish stocky policemen in yellow jackets, and a scruffy loud grinning man with one of his arms bent up his back by one of the coppers. The scruffy loud man bore a striking resemblance to Simon Doom, poet from the glory days of the Hull Surrealist League.
I could make a pretty confident guess at what must have transpired. Doom, with some alcohol inside him had breezed out of the nearby The Master’s Bar pub, spotted the BBC’s presence on the street and also, what could be a ‘live to air’ camera, and couldn’t resist the temptation of a possible spontaneous poetry reading to the nation. He must have elbowed the interviewer out of the way, grabbed her microphone and launched confidently into one of his spoems (spoof poems).
I learned later that umbrella man had, with his free hand, flagged down a passing police cruiser and waved the cops over. Meanwhile, the journalist had snatched her microphone back and hit Doom satisfyingly hard on the nose with it. I was pleased to see that the aforementioned nose was bleeding nicely and its dribblings were mixing with the rainwater running from his sodden hair down his shirt front.
Later he presented me with a damp and bloodstained copy of his spoem – he said I should share it with the world on, ‘that crappy blog thing’ of mine…
Boxoid soxoid wigmarole?
Febzian thells bluth toutres.
Spungaletti germin da da shups.
Goglian da da da da doo!
Textoin mextoin figmarole?
Zitters thells tzarotype migsers.
Thools sponzite da da shups.
Gum gum gum!
Foptain da da da da doo!
Foptain loptain bigmarole?
Oopta thells currous deebabs.
Seccoldo garmoil da da shups.
Gum gum gum gum!
Textoin da da da da doo!
Goglian boglian chigmarole?
Muxy thells femmick palpers.
Teffondalain ocho da da shups.
Gum gum gum gum gum!
Boxoid da da da da doo!
Simon Doom. 2019.