281 • Incompetence
Please note: your chiropodist, Pete,
Will be shot, should he enter our street.
He made such a botch
Of repairing your watch
He sha’n’t get his hands on my feet.
It’s all-too easy to suspect across-the-board incompetence when, in fact, ineptitude has been proven in one field only. The luckless ‘Pete’ here may indeed be a jackass-of-all-trades, but what would become of US society if we took pot-shots at every bungling nincompoop who came to our attention?
2 thoughts on “281 • Incompetence”
I live in Bayswater, WA, which like the London one, is not near a Bay, though there is water on its edge. And I enjoy your limericks hugely. Intelligent consolation in these curious times.
Thank you.
Greetings, Patrick, and many thanks indeed for your thoughtful message and kind words. It’s heartening to know that the daily rhymes are a source of occasional solace during a Grisly Epoch.
As for ‘intelligent’ … I confess I have not dared to aim so high myself: I’d be gratified even to be considered ‘intelligible’ much of the time. Surely it’s an intelligent *reader* who can detect fragmentary doctrine amid such a torrent of tosh?
The geographically-misleading toponym, Bayswater, is indeed perplexing; have you considered the possibility that it’s just an anagram of whatever the original settlers found at the spot (Wary Beast, Weary Bats for instance. Sweaty Bra?)
(I can’t help but notice that your own name is uncommonly fecund when it comes to anagrams, but this is possibly not the time, nor the place, to start dilating on such topics as Pecked Tapirs, Kippered Cats, etc.)
I hope you’ll continue to read and enjoy My Dog Errol for the rest of the year … about seven dozen bulletins still to come, if the imagination holds out. Comments are always welcome!
Very best wishes from the Remote Antipodes,
Richard Lime