Poems

You’re Very Welcome

I know office life really can be very dull

Much like Newsnight or a weekend break in Hull

Spending a third of your day slaving for pay

It’s not nice when others complain if they don’t get their way

But I can deal with selfishness, with whinging and with hate

And even with the wag whose repetitive jokes really grate

I can cope with meetings that drag when they’re meant to flow

And personal messages to 600 folk from a faceless CEO

But there is just one thing that’s rather vexing

Worse than blatantly hiding your phone under the desk whilst texting

More awful than anyone at the Xmas party getting nude

It’s the people who insist on being so incredibly fucking rude

I know me bringing the post doesn’t fill them with elation

But there’s no need for them to look at me like I just shat on their work station

I apologise for my language, I do attempt to be a little more Jane Austen

But I wouldn’t curse so much if I was annoyed less often

I mean it doesn’t take much to say those magic words

A please and a thank you would stop me thinking of them as turds

That need flushing away into the boggy public sector sewer

Yes, that would keep my language from getting ever bluer

I don’t expect this from her majesty’s civil service

I imagined a decency not seen since Peter Purvis

Graced our screens when politeness was the norm

And not saying “How do you do old boy” was seen as bad form

These people really need to go back to nursery

To re-learn the basics before applying for the bursary

That gives them their senior roles

And allows them to look at others as proles

But they won’t, the status quo will remain in tact

That I must accept as a solid fact

Rail Replacement

The Industrial Revolution was the envy of all nations.

All over the country sprung up fine railway stations.

So how surprised the original engineers would be

To see their baby treated so recklessly.

When gazing from heaven they’d have to look twice

To see everything was still Victorian, except for the price.

They could never have predicted the utter tedium that would be inflicted on commuters, travellers and business men, on hen parties, football fans and school kids when they are told their journey will take an extra half hour. Feelings for the Rail Network begin to sour.

George Stephenson wouldn’t be impressed and he’d have to knock it.

He never suffered the indignity of a replacement Rocket.

But this isn’t the 19th century and we don’t do quite as well

At getting things done efficiently, like Georgie or Brunel.

That sound you hear must be them spinning in their graves quickly

Because it sure as hell isn’t the 14:10 from Shipley.

That one’s late again due to leaves on the track

And it looks like the overworked staff are taking all the flack.

“When’s the next train to Leeds?” The demands become more frantic. “I’m afraid you’ve just missed it.” Well call me pedantic, but it can’t be the next train if it’s already gone!

“Do please calm down, have a cup of tea and a scone, in our café over the bridge. The bus won’t be long, at least it’s not what we envisage.”

You’d need to take out a loan to afford a cuppa there

Not much is left for the return train fare.

But such is life and we shouldn’t make such a fuss

When finding our train has been replaced by a bus.