FLAT PACK
By
John G. Sutton
So she dragged me screamin’ ‘t warehouse
An’ bought what she said was just reet
In’t showroom it looked proper gradely
All pine with a polish on ‘t top
Her said it was just what she wanted
So who am I fot’ say stop?
The salesman was really quite helpful
Though he gave me a look I thought queer
Then missus she pulled out me cheque book
Said ‘we’ll tak’ it, no messin’ sign here’
It were then that I knew the expression
O‘t salesmen, the crafty old sod
Was one of quiet amusement
As if he knew summat was odd
‘Your goods are all sealed in a flat pack’
He said with a glint in his eye
It was then that my heart began sinking
Poor bugger to fix it was I
So we get this flat pack ‘t motor
But could we it inside?
It wur a nine foot wide wardrobe
I’d trapped them twixt wall and that pack
I wur already wishin’ an’ prayin’
She’d let me tak’ bugger straight back
But my troubles had not even started
If only I’d this known before
I’d have chucked that flat pack furniture
And not let it through me front door
The instructions were written in English
Least I recognised most of the words
But the directions and diagrams differed
And the drawings were really absurd
I counted the nuts and the widgets
The bolts and the dowling and screws
The glue and the side clasps and hangers
This really was very bad news
The missus she stood there arms folded
Inspecting the contents with glee
‘yon salesman said it were easy’
For Einstein perhaps, but not me!
Me glasses they soon got steamed up like
I’d getten a sweat on me brow
Struggling, grunting and trying
To fix it together, but how?
The drill holes in side ‘A’ were missing
That or just too small to see
I broke a screw in the end flange
By now I was ready fot’ dee’
There were bits here and theer on the carpet
The dog ate the glue and was sick
Me missus she turned var near purple
Yelling and calling me thick!
In the end I could take it no longer
I took axe and chopped it to bits
An’ burnt bloody lot in’t garden
Me missus was ‘avin’ real fits
Then I went to t’ best shop in city
An’ bought new again off the floor
It were fitted and all put together
No flat pack for us anymore
A wardrobe with drawers fitted in
An if thy can fathom flat packing
Tha’rt a better man than me Gungha Din!