[John Whitworth]

As ever, you are right, Ann.

[Brian Allgar]

Lovely, John. I can't wait to try it. Or not.

I'd been thinking of writing a poem explaining how to assemble an Ikea table, but realized that such a piece would be entirely incomprehensible.

[Chris O'Carroll]

Lovely useful wingtips, John. Didn't you intend a comma after "bamboo"?

[basil ransome-davies]

'Proceed to' in l.13?

[John Whitworth]

i am a lousy proof-reader. Thank you Chris and Bazza.

[RCL]

A rural lady told me once
some facts about pink elephants—
how worrisome it is to know
pachyderms may come and go:

Try not to think of them when glum
or pinkish elephants will come.
The more one sighs or cries or fusses,
the more one sees a pink proboscis!

She added, apropos their dance,
Whatever hue the elephants,
they’re tasty treats (now please, don’t quibble),
but start your feast with one small nibble.

Though gone, she trumpets in my mind.
Her rosy breasts and pink behind
still whet my lingering appetite
for country memories, bite by bite.

[Brian Allgar]

Originally Posted by Brian Allgar

I'd been thinking of writing a poem explaining how to assemble an Ikea table, but realized that such a piece would be entirely incomprehensible.

Still, here it is, or something like it:

Instruction manual (printed in China)

Congratulations! You are just about
To build this stunning self-assembly kit.
Although the manual’s clear beyond a doubt,
You may complain that nothing seems to fit,
But that’s because you’ve mixed screws ‘J’ and ‘K’.
It’s easy to confuse them - at first sight,
They look the same, but actually, screw ‘J’
Is threaded right-to-left, ‘K’ left-to-right.
Piece ‘X’ must be inserted in slot ‘G’,
Though not before you’ve put the bolt marked ‘U’
Into the hole that’s been misprinted ‘P’
(It should be ‘F’) and tightened wing-nut ‘Q’.

You say the task is testing you severely?
Well, if you think that nothing could be trickier
Than using this assembly kit, then clearly
You’ve never made a table bought from Ikea!

[Douglas G. Brown]

Dear Honored Customer, we staff at Honda
Express great gratitude that you have chosen
Our 50 cc motor-bike, to wander
From desert sands to arctic tundra frozen.

Before commencing engine, please inspect
With dip-sticks, trans and engine lubrication
Amounts; in likewise manner should be checked
That battery filled up to saturation.

Then test all horn and lights for operation,
Observe to watch the brakes to stop both tires
From any sign of movement or rotation.
Check gas-tank full, tight cap to ward off fires.

Put helmet on, plus goggles for own safety;
Mount bike, try get good feel of all controls.
Put trans in N, then turn gas-cock and key;
Kick starter smart, rev-up when engine rolls.

[Rob Stuart]

You want to write a poem? Nothing to it.
Forget that wretched book by Stephen Fry.
In thirty seconds flat I’ll take you through it.
It really is as effortless as pie.

It’s only words, you know, not rocket science.
A funny bit of formatting likexxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxthis
Looks dead sophisticated. A reliance
On vocab like ‘azure’ won’t go amiss.

Don’t worry if you don’t possess a leaning
For intellectual thoughts. If you’re averse
To writing stuff that has some kind of meaning,
Redesignate your efforts as ‘light verse’.

A poem with a rhyme-scheme may sound sweeter,
But that is not compulsory these days,
And nor are you obliged to have a metre
Or to apply either technique with any degree of consistency.


[I'm indebted to the 'Don't' section on George Simmers' snakeskin.com for some of these pointers!]

[Martin Parker]

Rob, another winner for you, I suspect.

Mine is a poor thing, though it speaks from the heart of one who has recently moved house ----

If you, too, find nothing can so much appal
as wasting an afternoon daubing a wall
with streaked smears of Dulux or Farrow and Ball,
take heart! I've a way of avoiding it all.

If the brushes you need have gone Mohican stiff
since you used them five years ago – maybe; or if
the paint, once you've opened the can, isn't what
your wife now insists that you ought to have got;
or if your first brush-strokes look instantly less
like a smooth vinyl silk than a thick Eton Mess;
or ten minutes after you've started you're sure
there's less paint on the wall than there is on the floor;
admit it's a pastime to which you're unsuited,
that failure's a habit that's far too deep-rooted.
Find a bin, take the paint and chuck every last can in.
And, hang the expense of it, -- just get a man in!