The Flight of Oscar's Undies

The Flight of Oscar's Undies

Postby Daffyd » Wed Apr 25, 2007 4:51 pm

:roflmao:
Get your coffee and your 'choccy bics'
Put your feet up on the cat
Settle down like you were in the 'pics'
If you don't smile I'll eat my hat.


The Flight of Oscar's Undies

Gary Hogg



The weather as usual was summit and nowt
On the wireless they said Kent was mad hot
The folks in the south always get the most sun
Cos they pay higher rates, like as not

But the Monday in question a wind had got up
And you could see that me Mother was itchin’
To get all her washing out on the line
Instead of on’t pulley in’t kitchen

"A good drying day is a blessing" she said
And dragged the mangle out into the yard
"Your clothes’ll all smell of fresh air for a change,
Instead of them stinkin' of lard"

Well all the folks in the street were of the same mind
And washing lines went across the back lane
With candlewicks and curtains all billowing out
Stuff that hadn’t been washed since last May

Now Mrs Nextdoor lived, err.. nextdoor sort of style
Both her and her son were quite stout
And we’d laugh at the size of her bloomers
Whenever she hung them all out

Her son, Oscar Nextdoor wasn’t half a big lad
He longed to be thirteen stone slimmer
But he never really got round to it
Cos he never missed that many dinners

He’d a waistline the size of a coastline
He was just a big dollop of spam
And his underpants were the size of a waste skip
A right struggle to wash for their Mam

She could only fit one pair in the tub at a time
When wet they weighed close on a ton
So the poor woman was still pegging stuff on the line
When others had their ironing done

There was one pair of pants was his favourites
And him not being the sort to wear thongs
These were big belly warming, apple catching, Y fronts
Purple nylon with turquoise dots on

It took her six pegs to keep them on’t line
And with the wind blowing, she had a right job
She had just enough strength left in her, poor lass
To fill the kettle and put it on’t hob

She just happened to look out the window
And she nearly dropped dead with the fright
Cos there was her Oscars best Y-Fronts
Setting off over the roofs like a kite

Both ends of the clothesline had pulled themselves loose
And the dogs were all starting to bark
Cos the wind had got into the Y-fronts
Like the mainsail on board t’Cutty Sark

Oscar was down the allotment, he saw them go past
And he looked and thought "They’re just like mine"
And he realised they were when he saw their back wall
Was still dangling on the end of the line

Now Joby the ragman had just parked his horse
And given it a nosebag of grub
While he negotiated for an old copper boiler
From this wife who’d just bought a twin-tub

He saw the stuff fall he thought his prayers had come true
A whole cartload of clothes from the sky
But the horse, poor lad, he wasn’t too chuffed
When Oscars trolleys went ‘slap’ round his eyes

He showed his annoyance by shaking his head
Then nodding it fast up and down
Then he went up on his back legs like Trigger
And belted off down the street towards town

Now Oscar had heard the commotion
And come to see what was the crack
But when he saw what a state the poor horse was in
He went back for a shovel and sack

Apart from washday, on Mondays, it’s the Market
And the main street was burstin at seams
With all sorts of stalls, vans and trailers
And the Walls’s bloke selling ice cream

Well the horse just galloped on through there
And stood on a hundred folks toes
With his lugs sticking out through the leg holes
And the gusset stuck tight to his nose

He was still dragging the clothes line behind him
And it was collecting all sorts of odd stuff
Like a brolly, a cake stall, and a Walls’s bloke
You could see by his face he weren’t chuffed

When the horse reached the end, he’d run out of puff
He’d run out of High street an’all
Crashed through the railings and a flower bed
And got halfway up the steps o’t Town Hall

PC Taylor arrived and lay down his bike
In the place where the railings had been
And he took out his pencil and notebook
And carefully surveyed the crime scene

He asked folks standing round what had happened
And started looking around for some clues
Vicar’s wife said "Those pants there are Oscar’s"
But she blushed when folks asked how she knew

I was filling the scuttle out in the yard
When the Police van pulled up at nextdoor's
They opened ‘back doors and took out a brick wall
A clothesline and Oscar’s best drawers

They said they would’nt be pressing no charges
It had been a fluke, act of God, so to speak
But Oscar was still quite embarrassed
And didn’t show his face for three weeks

They still talk of the day that his trolleys took flight
And some folk can be a bit mean
But Mrs Nextdoor can still hold her head high
At least the underpants involved had been clean

:mrgreen: :roflmao:
Daffyd
 

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