MORNING STROLL

The other morning I was strolling

through a minefield–

it’s a peaceful minefield,

council approved,

buffer zone,

high fence to keep animals out,

childproof gates,

warning signs in

twenty-five different languages,

and has actually been demined

BUT – NOT YET QUALITY ASSURED

so there’s still- A FEW

Claymores,

Jumping Jacks

and Anti-Personnel mines left.

I was walking through the

almost, ex- minefield

When, on my right I saw Hamlet.

‘Morning Hamlet, lovely day.’ I said.

Well, he can be a real moody bugger sometimes.
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He sorta grunted, ‘ Morning.’ and off he went,

mumbling something about,

Two B–

must be the number of his apartment.

‘Hey, Hamlet,’ I yelled,

‘ You’ll be bloody omelet soon

if you don’t-

T-U-R-N O-N-Y-O-U-R-M-I-N-E-D-E-T-E-C-T-O-R.’

‘Oh,’ I thought, ‘ a stroll through a minefield

clears ones senses,

blows away the cobwebs.’

Skydiving’s boring,

bungee jumping’s so passe.

Now, what will I have for breakfast?

BANG!

A cloud of dust rises on my right,

Alas poor Hamlet.

Well I did warn him,

QUALITY ASSURANCE HASN”T BEEN YET

Now, breakfast–

anything but omelet.