Executive
I am a young executive.
No cuffs than mine are cleaner;
I have a Slimline brief-case and I use the firm's Cortina.
In every roadside hostelry from here to Burgess
The maîtres d'hôtel all know me well, and let me sign the bill.
You ask me what it is I do.
Well, actually, you know,
I'm partly a liaison man, and partly P.
R.
O.
Essentially,
I integrate the current export
And basically I'm viable from ten o'clock till five.
For vital off-the-record work - that's talking transport-wise -I've a scarlet Aston-Martin - and does she go?
She flies!
Pedestrians and dogs and cats, we mark them down for slaughter.
I also own a speedboat which has never touched the water.
She's built of fibre-glass, of course.
I call her 'Mandy Jane'After a bird I used to know - No soda, please, just plain -And how did I acquire her?
Well, to tell you about
And to put you in the picture,
I must wear my other hat.
I do some mild developing.
The sort of place I
Is a quiet country market town that's rather run to seedA luncheon and a drink or two, a little savoir faire -I fix the Planning Officer, the Town Clerk and the Mayor.
And if some Preservationist attempts to interfereA 'dangerous structure' notice from the Borough
Will settle any buildings that are standing in our way -The modern style, sir, with respect, has really come to stay.
Sir John Betjeman
Other author posts
Slough
Come, friendly bombs, and fall on It isn't fit for humans now, There isn't grass to graze a Swarm over,
Guilt
The clock is frozen in the tower, The thickening fog with sooty Has blanketed the motor Which turns the London streets to hell;
Loneliness
The last year's leaves are on the beech: The twigs are black; the cold is dry; To deeps beyond the deepest The Easter bells enlarge the sky
A Bay In Anglesey
The sleepy sound of a tea-time Slaps at the rocks the sun has dried, Too lazy, almost, to sink and Round low peninsulas pink with thrift
