Poetry Hallway - Having A Trip To The Bank

Any change, guv'nor? At Poetry Hallway we are skint. Strapped. Scooped out. Brassic. We're borrowing a neighbour's internet, hand-cranking a tiny solar torch for light, and coming up with recipes incorporating whatever remains in the cupboard. Pasta, rice and noodle surprise, whoopee! - the surprise being whatever tiny sauce sachets we've filched on our travels along the high street earlier. Hunter-gatherers. Apply here. Please.

Things are so bad we're even thinking of renting out one end of the Hallway to amorous swingers in need of a quick bunk-up. So long as they don't mind sharing with a team of starving poets, and using a pile of old towels and junk manuscripts as a mattress, it could be a winner!

Sadly we're not the only ones with holes in our socks and our guts due to the holes in our funds (especially as we were counting on our latest promised payment from git-faced Limpit, that is until we actually read his latest poem):

Having A Trip To The Bank - by Limpit Smike

They turned me down, those naughty clowns,

They turned me down again;

My fine request for extra funds -

Allow me to explain.

My poet’s life has wheres and whys,

And often just “how much?!”;

But lavishness becomes me, so

I strive to keep in touch.

My bank has clean facilities,

And clean advances too;

But when I can advance no more,

They leave me in the stew.

They have no wit, those naughty twits;

They have no poet’s ear;

What squirt of life flows through their loins?

Quite none at all I fear.

How will I make to penetrate

Those hard, unyielding men?

Am I the Smike forever cursed

To rant and swear and moan?

Insinuate, or sit and wait

Until my verse takes flight?

Or use my lover’s deepness

And thrust with all my might?

A love that swells in all my parts

Would take them by surprise;

And surely soon, my overdraft

Would be quite energised.

Their deepest vaults would sweat and strain

As I thrust strong and tough;

If they would only give me some

I’d give back quite a stuff!

Poetry Hallway - Unexpected Item In Bagging Area

Pile 'em low, sell 'em short, ignore iambic pentameter. That's our three-pointed strategy at Poetry Hallway, and by God if it's not working. You could try to argue otherwise, but you'd be wrong. We don't so much thumb our noses at tradition as yank the things off and thrust the bloody masses right up its timid traditional normal-nosed face. The joys of cartilage.

Look sharp now! We are banister-grippingly proud to showcase a guest poet in our slim auditorium today; Leicester's very own Andrew Walton. Shuffle along now.

Unexpected item in bagging area

Do you have a Nectar card?
System can be frustrating to some shoppers.
Are you using your own bags?
Growth is projected to steadily rise.
Keep customers happy.
Approval required.

Your call is currently number six in the queue. Please continue to hold.
Reduce the length of checkout lines and wait times.
Your call is very important to us, please hold.
Minimizing the stress on employees.
We are currently experiencing high call volumes.
Please call back later or continue to hold.

Please insert cash, or select payment type.
The salaries of multiple cashiers can quickly add up.
Notes are dispensed below the scanner.
Lower overhead costs.
Providing customers with the service they need.

Many customers don’t feel comfortable with the process:
Dealing with a faceless machine.
Customers enjoy a brief conversation,
Prefer to have a one-on-one interaction with cashiers.
Thank you for using Sainsbury’s self-checkout.

[Found poetry – automated voice commands from self-service checkouts; telephone answering services and http://www.businessbee.com/resources/profitability/the-pros-and-cons-of-using-self-checkouts/]

If you'd like to support Andrew Walton's poetry, a sensible way would be to buy his latest collection, 'Little Green Poetry', available here. http://www.lulu.com/shop/andrew-walton/little-green-poetry/paperback/product-21708160.html