The Interview
The soldier smartly sat to attention
in his council interview
He’d come for a job in their office
and he knew what he had to do
He’d been briefed on all the questions
Knew the boxes he needed to tick
Answered most of them with a flourish
though daft ones got on his wick
They seemed pleased with his military service
Saw he could follow orders ok
That planning ahead was his forte
but on his health, did he have owt to say?
He said that he couldn’t drink coffee
Told them that caffeine made his face swell
That started a general mutter;
they weren’t happy with that, he could tell
But he got them back on his side
made them wince when he told of the bomb
that went off on the roadside in Basra
ensuring his gonads were gone
This, though a nasty story
was told in a manner direct
Frank and roundly refreshing
and still he sat there smiling, erect
So after a bit of a natter
they agreed that he would be great
But his start time every morning
should be ten o’clock, not eight
So the job was his, if he wanted
But, what, did they think him work shy?
Why should he start so late on a morning
He decided to ask them just “why?”
They said sorry you can’t be included
but here, we avoid creative pitfalls
and spend the first two hours every morning
drinking coffee and scratching our balls