“Bang it on the wall,” she said
“The neighbours won’t object
I know it doesn’t bother them
I went around and checked
I’ve asked the folk at ninety eight
And those at ninety four
Say if the banging doesn’t help
Then slam it in the door”
It’s getting rather crusty now
A nasty shade of grey
And there’s a crack right up the back
I’m very sad to say
I’ve done my best to straighten it
I’ve brushed the fuzzy parts
And sprayed it with deodorant
To neutralise the farts
She thinks I ought to throw it out
I’ve often heard her say
The dustman wanted fifty quid
To take the thing away
I’d like to turn it into cash
I thought perhaps I’d try it
I took it to the auction rooms
But no one dared to buy it
The Council’s special helpline
Were no help at all because
They put the phone down on me
When I told them what it was
It looks as if we’re stuck with it
There’s no one else to call
So bear with me a moment
While I bang it on the wall.
