Wednesday, 26 September 2012

Money for Old Rope

The other day I had a letter from the people who clean the close in my block of flats, basically blackmailing me to pay for a service that I didn’t request.  Why so stingy, I hear you ask? 

Well first, because I don’t believe there is anything in my title deeds saying that I should line the pockets of people who do the job far less well than I used to.  And since I was the only person on my stair who ever swept it out (I’m on the ground floor, mind you) I would rather revert to the old system, as illustrated in this sign on the top floor of ‘Oor Museum.’

Far be it for me to moan on about the perils of capitalism and greed. The bucket and mop next to the sign reminded me of one of our most-beloved characters, and a distant memory of a cartoon picture with empty pockets pulled out of his troosers; an exasperated look on his wee face.  This was my response.


Oor Wullie’s a bit of an entrepreneur
(though he dis’nae ken what that means.)
He went to the Pound Shop, bought a
new mop; filled up his bucket with water
and soap-suds and scrubbed every doorstop,
charging a shilling-a-piece, and ten bob
for each close he cleans.
If only he’d learned to sew up his pockets
before he dropped all his profits.

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