Scotched Stereotypes

What’s your connection with Scotland?
Well it seems that I owe it my birth:
Mum met dad in Dundee.
And they later had me.
Could that be connection enough?

I’m afraid I have never been back there.
Perhaps you were hoping for more
Of a recent connection –
With local inflection?
I’m sorry to seem like a bore.

Though my parents went touring the Highlands
And they both played to Edinburgh crowds;
Spent some time up in Perth
With old friends and much mirth –
Still, I’m not sure it could be allowed.

For I never have eaten a Mars bar
That’s been battered and dunked in a vat.
I don’t fling, or toss cabers;
Quote Burns to the neighbours;
Wear kilts with no undies and that.

So perhaps you cannot call me Scottish;
More a botched-up attempt at a clan.
Though my dreams were conceived there,
I won’t be believed fer
A wee bonnie lassie o’Glen.

Generation Gap Year

Extended adolescence is
Two dudes on a skate date at six
Discussing their need
For some quality weed
While comparing the length of their tricks

With their tracksuits and caps off The Now Show
And their t-shirts ironic, profound
They both chat and rejoice
In the sound of their voice
As home counties vowels litter the ground

Not quite yet with one foot on the ladder
Are these kool kats establishment-bound
With their pals in the pub
Serving plates of posh grub
Mockney rules ’til the tools owe a round

Then they’re back pulling pints of an evening
While the board sits at home in the lounge
Pinching pennies for blow
Giving housemates a show
As the park’s still the best game in town

From my viewpoint as elderly spinster
I ignore what excites at their age
Though it seems such good fun
I’ve a hunch they’ve broken
Every bone from their knees to ribcage

On peahens in public

There is a particular quality
To ladies of ‘the quality’ – who lisp.
It’s a highly peculiar thing,
A phenomenon, if you will –
But these women one meets
Through a twist of fate
Are frequently vile
And riddled with hate
For all those that they meet.
We lesser mortals – of doubtful morals
Provide much amusement for those
Glorious peahens, who
Drab in their mohairs, do
Choose to take offence
At the slightest of slights
And imagined slurs
Too much of his
What she views as hers.
I do not pretend to know
Why they upset me so.
If it has yet anything whatsoever
To do with their impediment
But nevertheless, I must confess:
These women have caused me no end of distress.
For perched upon their dignity
And sniffing with solemnity
They can spoil with great alacrity
And even a flourish of
Courageous snubbage:
Any social occasion.