Number 42, Walter Mitty

My wife has caught the bug and written some more rhyming recipes.  I'm all set to put them on this blog, but she's leaving me!  She wants a blog of her own.  So blog off then!  In the nicest possible way of course.  As soon as it is set up I will put the link to it somewhere. Here though is number 41:  It is a true story, it happened on Thursday.

Walter Mitty

You don’t half meet some types some days,

Whose stories really do amaze,

Especially strangers who arrive

To buy your car, (or just test drive).

The other day a bloke came round,

And while he’s lying on the ground

Having a gander underneath,

He tells me how he caught a thief.

I don’t know why he boasted thus,

But he went on to make a fuss

Of making sure I heard enough,

And recognize that he was tough.

He looked a dangerous piece of work,

Not your usual little nerk;

Short and squat and not quite right,

With a Bulldog’s underbite.

He said he used to be a wrestler,

And deep inside some grudges fester.

Black belt Karate, second Dan,

He nearly killed his wife’s old man.

Her divorce was coming through,

The bloke turned up, what could he do?

He challenged him right there and then,

Then knocked him out and counted ten.

I’d only met this man a minute,

But his head had too much in it.

He told me how he threatened to

Snap his fingers clean in two.

The husband ran, or so he said,

For fear of finishing up dead.

And now this visitor of mine,

Takes pleasure spinning out this line.

It turns out this was long ago,

But his life story I must know;

All about the work he does,

On private contract for the fuzz.

But then he further had to say,

One day he nabbed young Reggie Kray!

He was a plod in Hackney there,

And had to then arrest the pair.

No doubt you know of whom he’s talking;

The famous Kray twins he’d been stalking.

The baddest gangsters Britain’s had,

And this bloke got them, what a lad!

Of course he was a top marksman,

And led them off into the can,

With not so much as a by your leave;

He got his men, and a tale to weave.

Dog handler, Sweeney, high speed cars,

Putting people behind bars,

Now retired it seems to me,

He’s really just a Walter Mitty.

But now he’s telling me about

Nine cars he has that he takes out.

He rallies, races and he shows them;

Famous drivers? yes he knows them!

It is a scary thought for me,

Retired copper if he be.

And being very indiscreet,

One wonders how he kept his beat.

I wonder also how this man

Affords the things he says he can.

He wants my car he’ll ring tonight,

When he’s checked it’s all just right.

So later on he telephones;

The car’s too pricey now he moans.

He’d offer half the asking price,

Well, I thought, how very nice!

© Stephen Saunders

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Agent / publisher wanted.