PLUMBING THE DEPTHS OF POETRY

As the BBC, in its customary compulsive obsessive manner, has declared this to be poetry week, I thought I would make my own contribution to this lofty cause. I resolved that I would pen a short poem to commemorate an event which took place in my life this week. Well, today it happened, and here it is:

A pipe has fractured in my block.
The plumber has turned us off at the main.
"What will become of us now?", we conjecture,
"Maybe we'll never see water again!"
Nine flats with nary a drop in their sink
Plague and pestilence surely will follow.
Two dozen souls beginning to stink,
Empty cisterns sounding hollow.
Now is the start of a long hot summer,
Too much time with no toilette.
Wield your spanner, Mr Plumber!
Let us all get sweetly wet!
No washes, douches, flush or rinsing -
We'll be society's disdain
Can I be any more convincing?
Plumber, come and fix our main!

I believe that next week is Wet T-shirt week (can you even conceive of what I have planned for that!), followed by the events of "Slap Someone with a Salt Mackerel" Day the following weekend.

Watch this space.