BLAZING SADDLES

I dreamed my way
Along the well warn path
Beside the river,
Over the little wooden bridge
That spanned the rocks
That at low tide kept the water
In order, and at high tide
When it rained - which was
More often than not -
Just about contained the surge.

I steered my small steed
(Which doubled for my legs)
The silence of its electric horsepower
Swishing the long grass as it went
Carrying the eleven stone of me
To secret places that only I,
And the chosen few, knew of.

(A paradise practice of praise
To the one female gardener that
Kept its order and balance for ‘free’
For the shear love of this place)

Over a second wooden bridge
Then I headed up to the main road:
A 45 degree slope was all that
Came between me and asphalt freedom,
Free from the odd pothole
And clinging mud that stuck to
The mudguards like glue.

Head down I gave it full throttle!

I had just got to the top
When I came to a sudden, unexpected halt.
Black smoke started billowing
From underneath my bum-area;
I tried to get my new ‘second hand’ vehicle
To start again, the vehicle that the polished, greased-back salesman
Had talked me into buying, buttering me up with his well-worn:

‘One Old Lady Owner’ routine;
It was hopeless.

I was stuck! I couldn’t get off the bloody thing without Assistance!
I started shouting for help (I was panicking now)
A face appeared through the dense smoke.
In a gentle Welsh accent it spoke:
“Can I be of any assistance?”

“Yes, get me off this bloody thing!”
(I was really panicking now)
“Well now, wait here and I’ll get a chair!” said the face.
A second face (female this time) said:
“Would you like a cup of tea whilst you’re waiting for the chair?”
(As if I had all the time in the world!)
“Yes, that would be very nice,” I found myself saying.
The female face disappeared behind
The ever-increasing density of black Smoke!
I could see flames now through the
Melting fibreglass just below my seat!
The male face appeared again with a chair.

If he hadn’t arrived at that time
I would have had to hurl
Myself onto the grass!

The male face helped me off and into the Chair.
Then he turned my scooter over…
To be met by a raging inferno!
“I’ll get some water,” said the male face.
Meanwhile the female face brought me the cup of tea which
I drank while
Rome burned!

The male face reappeared holding a bucket of water
Which he hurled over the flames. It wouldn’t go out!

THREE BUCKETS AND A WATERING CAN FULL OF WATER

Was what it took to quench the flames…

And a letter to the Trading Standards Office
Plus a threatened expose’ from BBC Radio 4 was all it took
To get my bloody money back!