Big Nose Congo Adventure
(dedicated to a large-nosed RAF friend just after he was posted to the Congo)
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While bopping at a college ball I met a man named James. He was grooving in the shadows To ‘Four Seasons in One Day.’ He smacked his chops with pleasure As he downed a pint of piss, Then gave a girl a moody stare - The kind you can't resist. She offered him her eager lips. Her virgin knees grew weak. But then she fell and screamed as He attacked her with his beak. Poor James was overcome with shame. He'd only tried to kiss her. But his gi-enormous conk had Mashed her face into a blister. And so his life continued, With all pleasure sabotaged By the oversized protuberance That sat on his vis-age. He took to sitting in the park, Alone upon the grass. He'd hide behind a bush and Peck young ladies up the arse. But one day as he pecked A group of likely looking tarts, He was accosted by a stranger - A man with a moustache! He said 'I'm from the RAF, E.R. requires your services. There's trouble in the Congo With a horde of whirling dervishes.' James scratched his hooter warily And asked what was the catch. Would he get a decent pension? Would he have to grow a 'tash? The RAF-man smiled cunningly And swiftly raised a hand, Then stabbed a hypodermic Needle in his nasal glans. When finally young James awoke His head was racked with pain. He was lying in the jungle With his beak all bound in chains. The RAF-man stood beside him With a group of friendly soldiers. He shouted the command out That they execute their orders. At first a moment's silence. Then a rustling in the palms. The enemy burst out from the trees. The Captain cried 'To arms!' They pulled back on the chains To get his nostrils pointing east, Then they tickled at his sniffer And induced a mighty sneeze. And out from James' boko Flew a deadly nasal slime. The natives all died painfully In very little time. Now James is Blighty's hero. In the land there's no-one stauncher. He's the world's first fully tested Human chemical weapons launcher.
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Poem Study Notes:This poem was written in around 2003, dedicated to a friend just posted to the Congo. A year or two later he returned, fortunately with his nose (and the rest of him) intact. There is some doubt as to the truth of the finer details, described in this poem. Suffice to say that James has never actually denied that his 'beak was bound in chains' in the Congolese jungles. For those who believe that this poem is nosist, nasist or nasalist, it should be pointed out that the poet himself is nasaly overly well-endowed (is it racist if a green man says all green people are stupid?) By the way, has anyone read The Nose by Nikolai Gogol? I like to think Gogol would have enjoyed this poem. Poor chap was usually depressed - maybe it would have cheered him up!
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