An Ode to Old Andsome

You know this World is complicated and imperfect and oppressed

And it’s not hard to feel timid, apprehensive and depressed

It seems all around us tides of questions ebb and flow

And people want solutions but they don’t know where to go


Opinions abound about who is wrong and who is right

People need a prophet – a diffuser of the light

Someone they can turn to – as the crisis’s rage and swirl

Someone with the remedy – the wisdom – the pearl


Well they should have asked old andsome - He’d have told them without favour

His thoughts on immigration, teenage mothers, and New Labour

The ‘elf and safety culture, the stupid nanny state

The obscene bankers bonuses, the crappy interest rate


Yes they should have asked old andsome, he can sort out any mess

He can rejuvenate the railways, he can cure the NHS

So any little niggle, any single thing you want to know

Just run it past old andsome, wind him up and let him go


Congestion on the motorways, free holidays for thugs

The damage to the ozone layer, refugees and drugs

These may defeat the brain of any other bloke

But present it to old andsome and he’ll solve it at a stroke

 

Computers are a specialty – if your problem is confusing

He’ll trump up an instant remedy, that experts find confusing

Get rid of Norton, install Win 10, abandon Windows Seven

The panacea for computer ills, you’ll think you’ve gone to heaven

 

He will clarify the situation, he will make it crystal clear

You’ll feel the glazing of your eyeballs and the bending of your ear

Upon these tricky areas he brings his intellect to shine

In a great compelling voice that’s twice as loud as yours or mine

 

I often wonder what it’s like to be so incredibly strong

infallible, articulate, self-confident and wrong

The sound of his own voice becomes like music to his ears

And he hasn’t got an inkling that he’s boring us to tears


I bet his friends don’t call so often, they have busy lives you know

It’s not every day you want to hear a windbag suck and blow

Encyclopedias not needed – on them he does not call

Why clutter up the bookshelf – when old andsome knows it all



Based on the poem "My husband" by Pam Ayres 2002

I always told you that I am perfect, as well as good looking and modest.

Try this version.



You know this World is complicated and imperfect and oppressed

And it’s not hard to feel timid, apprehensive and depressed

It seems all around us tides of questions ebb and flow

And people want solutions but they don’t know where to go


Opinions abound about who is wrong and who is right

People need a prophet – a diffuser of the light

Someone they can turn to – as the crisis’s rage and swirl

Someone with the remedy – the wisdom – the pearl


Well they should have asked old andsome - He’d have told them without favour

His thoughts on immigration, teenage mothers, and Corbyn Labour

The ‘elf and safety culture, the stupid nanny state

The obscene bankers bonuses, the crappy interest rate


Yes they should have asked old andsome, he can sort out any mess

He can rejuvenate the railways, he can cure the NHS

So any little niggle, any single thing you want to know

Just run it past old andsome, wind him up and let him go


Congestion on the motorways, free holidays for thugs

The damage to the ozone layer, refugees and drugs

These may defeat the brain of any other bloke

But present it to old andsome and he’ll solve it at a stroke

 

Music is a favourite – provided Mahler is your thing

Otherwise - brace yourself – his wrath you’re sure to bring

Intolerance of other’s tastes – is andsome’s role in life

And a liking for Abba – is a guaranteed source of strife

 

The most handsome man here – according to his mirror

His boasting is incredible – it’s enough to make you dither

But he really means no harm – his intentions are amusing

He doesn’t know we’re bored to death – and find it quite confusing

 

He will clarify the situation, he will make it crystal clear

You’ll feel the glazing of your eyeballs and the bending of your ear

Upon these tricky areas he brings his intellect to shine

In a great compelling voice that’s twice as loud as yours or mine

 

Computers are a specialty – if your problem is confusing

He’ll trump up an instant remedy, that experts find confusing

Get rid of Norton, install Win 10, abandon Windows Seven

The panacea for computer ills, you’ll think you’ve gone to heaven

 

I often wonder what it’s like to be so incredibly strong

infallible, articulate, self-confident and wrong

The sound of his own voice becomes like music to his ears

And he hasn’t got an inkling that he’s boring us to tears


I bet his friends don’t call so often, they have busy lives you know

It’s not every day you want to hear a windbag suck and blow

Encyclopedias not needed – on them he does not call

Why clutter up the bookshelf – when old andsome knows it all



Based on the poem "My husband" by Pam Ayres 2002

A work of true genius. 

I will add to it as more of your character and foibles get revealed.

This is likely to become a long poem.  I hope Pam Ayres doesn't mind.