Bland On Bland – The BookThe theme for this week’s JVG Radio Method poem is “First Thing In The Morning“.

Every so often ( well truth be told every other week) JVG will go “hey that was a good show let’s tweak the theme ever so slightly and do it again” So here we are, following on from last weeks tale, back in the neighbourhood.

Our protagonists have returned from their fishing trip and we resume the tale …

Ed Bates provided the guitar backing, have a listen to how it went below…

To play this poem directly in your browser – just click the “play” button below:

First Thing In The Morning

“I told you not to wake me up, you dickhead – are you deaf?
I’ve only just got back to sleep, dunno why I waste my breath”

“Get stuffed ‘Pig’” snapped ‘Rabbit’ “you bloody great baboon
We left you here six hours ago, you knob, it’s almost noon”

“Rubbish” shot back ‘Pig’, “pull the other one you prick
I never sleep through breakfast, not even when I’m sick”

“Well you did today Hammy” sneered ‘Rabbit’ with a grin
For once he had the upper hand and was keen to rub it in

That should teach you to trust your stomach’s intuition
Though you’re not in any danger of death from malnutrition

It’s not the only thing you missed during your mini hibernation
The greatest day of fishing in the history of this nation”

“Oh, bullshit” scoffed ‘Pig’, “we’re not in fairyland
You couldn’t catch a ball if they glued it to your hand

You never catch nothing, none of youse, not never
Not one fish on all your hooks, except for bait, not ever”

“That changed today” smiled ‘Rabbit’ “even ‘Spanner’ caught a few
Lindy bagged a monster, almost as big as you

So big in fact” he beamed “we couldn’t carry it alone
‘Spanner’ got his billycart and we towed the bastard home”

“Where are these so called fish?” ‘Pig’s’ interest stirred at last
Passion pricked in anticipation of a piscatory repast

“At ‘Spanners’ house” said ‘Rabbit’ “you could tag along too
And if his mother’ll let us have matches we’ll fire up the barbeque”

Barbeque and food: There was no need to say any more
Before ‘Rabbit’ finished the sentence, ‘Pig’ was halfway out the door

Now ‘Rabbit’, as ‘Pig’ was well aware, was inclined to exaggerate
But not this time, the fish Lindy caught was too big to fit on the grate

‘Pig’ nearly drowned in saliva; intemperance fuelled by the smell
A lust not even a bottle of Marchant’s Creamy Soda could quell

The flathead was yet to be scaled, but to him that didn’t matter
Though still a revelation that fish weren’t born with batter

Then he eyeballed the snapper; glistening, all silver and pink
Consumed by desire, he must have it; too obsessed even to think

He lunged at the grate, tore at the flesh, too hungry or lazy to look
Overcome as he was by rapacity, he didn’t notice the hook

In panic he ran round the backyard; the hook piercing his lip
‘Squirrel’ was trying to reel him in but ‘Pig’ gave him the slip

“He’s getting way” yelled ‘Rabbit’ “you better use the net”
“And call a doctor” ‘Squirrel’ urged “on second thoughts call a vet”

The doctor removed the hook while two nurses held ‘Pig’ still
At least they saw the funny side; prescribing a diet of krill

“Lindy takes gold” ‘Rabbit’ declared as ‘Pig’ was carried away
“A single hook, she managed to bag two whoppers in the one day”

© Copyright 2018 Ian Bland

Also have a listen to “Everything or Nothing

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