Mayonnaise leaning against a wall…

But first…
Dulltown, UK: Today’s moths are: the Horse-Chestnut Leaf Minor, the Light Crimson Underwing, the Pale Eggar, the Silver Y, the Ghost Moth, and Dewick’s Plusia.
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I was only just thinking that we, in this area of town, don’t get Christmas carollers coming round and singing at our front doors, like they used to. It’s probably just the area I live in, I suppose. We do get American trick or treaters, though. That is a puzzle!

Last night, at about gone-past-twelve, my front doorbell did a long ring.
It was a bit late for callers. And I was a bit reluctant to go down and open the door, so I looked out of the upstairs front window to see if I could see who it was. I was expecting that it was someone ringing on the wrong door – they were probably looking for the drug dealers a few doors down.
Hm, I could just make out a male figure slouched against the wall of the doorway. It reached out a claw and rang the bell again.

I went down and opened the door. There was a scruffy drunken lout, grinning, and leaning against the wall.
The drunken grinning figure was Tony Mayonnaise, poet from back in the glory days of the Hull Surrealist League.
The thing shrugged, and opened its mouth, and began singing, God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. He had just got to let nothing you dismay… when I managed to catch his eye.
He stopped singing, and spoke.
‘Hello Davy-boy!…’ His ringing voice was more slurred than normal.
‘Good evening…’ I said, and then added, ‘What do you want’?
‘Ruzma ruzma, the bloin-tethers’! he shouted.
‘Stop! Stop that! You buffoon! Think about my neighbours’! I said.
‘Neighbours! Ha!…’
‘What do you want’? I repeated. And then added, ‘By the way, you are not coming in’!
‘A simple thing…’
‘A simple thing’? I responded.
‘Yes… Ruzma ruzma, the bloin-tethers’!
‘I see…’ I said. ‘What is that’?
‘It’s the opening line for my new spoem (Spoof poem)…’
‘Oh yes’? I said. ‘I suppose you want me to put it onto my blog post tomorrow’?
‘Oh… that would be awfully decent of you – my dear chap’! He had zoomed into posh mode.
‘Is it a long piece of work’? I asked.
‘Do you mind if I urinate in your front garden’?
‘Go ahead…’ I said, ‘It’s just gravel…’

Ruzma rusma, the bloin-tethers!
Cloin stuffler, alberry spoonjack.
Thab thab thab thab thab thab thab.
Soonasphere soonasphere, well gnarled quips.
Pollifock!
Queem-joy, the staggering oat!
….
Ruzma rusma, the bloin-tethers!
Wooltrot stuffler, neeberry flailarm.
Shab shab shab shab shab shab shab.
Slepnooter slepnooter, well snarled lips.
Delphick!
Stench-toy, the jagged door!
….
Ruzma rusma, the bloin-tethers!
Curldrot stuffler, calberry creepdoll.
Kebs kebs kebs kebs kebs kebs kebs.
Sonikomph sonikomph, well palmed jips.
Ooftricker!
Bloth-goy, the rubbed peas!
….
Tony Mayonnaise. 2023.