Tuesday 25 November 2014

a thirty eighth new poem...'tour de fraud'

PC Pemberton caught
Bradley Wiggins red-
Handed doing wheelies
On a Boris Bike outside
The Lord Mayor’s office in
London. Then and there
Pemberton gave Wiggins a
Seventy-five pound
Fine and asked him to
Sign each bank note, before
Going home and framing the petty
Crime above his mantelpiece.
Pemberton’s wife wasn’t so
Chuffed. She hated the
Tour de France.  It had ruined
Their summer holidays
For nearly fifteen years, especially
Her husband’s insistence that
They try and keep up with
The peleton at every stage, and
Now there was a constant reminder
Above the television set – yet
She said nothing about corruption,
Pemberton hadn’t spent
The money she supposed.  He could
Give it back to the commissioner
At any time ...
Oh! But he
Couldn’t stop going on about it,
And during their last dinner
Party he interrupted main
Course to take guests into the
Living room and show them
Bradley Wiggins’ signature
On all eight of the notes.
Wiggins had paid with
Seven tens, one five.
‘Why an Olympic champion
Had cash on him I’ll
Never know’, said Pemberton,
Although in truth there were plenty of
Things in life that remained
A mystery to PC Pemberton,
Including his
Wife’s Osgood-Schlatter’s,
Most French vocabulary, and
The fact Wiggins’ bank notes
Were robbed from the mealy
Purse of a single parent
Mother with disabled child after
Wiggins - gone wild - had mistakenly
Pawned his gold medals, then
Defaulted on the loan.

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