It is strange that in a time of apparent frugality, hand car washes seem to be thriving all over the country. What has happened to us, have we become so lazy that we can no longer spend half an hour with a hose on the driveway come Sunday morning? Or is it something much deeper, a need to impress the neighbours? “Bye darling!” shouts the husband from the front door, “I’m off to get the car washed at the hand-car-wash.” “Alright, Love!” shouts his wife from upstairs where she is busy ironing to supplement their income, “don’t forget to make sure the neighbours know where you’re going!” I know this may seem extreme but unfortunately I suspect it’s not far from the truth for some…
Kevin’s car shines at the car wash,
Must keep it clean,
Must keep it posh!
His important job is enjoyed,
Told neighbours: ‘holiday last week’,
Mother in Hastings,
Showed Internet photos from the Carribean,
Along with instant tan,
Believed what they’re seeing!
The neighbours admire their house downstair,
All the bedrooms,
Are empty and bare.
His drinks cupboard has no more space
But the refrigerator
Is an empty place.
To a boot sale he drives miles,
To avoid his neighbours,
Shops at a discount store with his wife,
Bags for life!
Amongst these tales not one gem,
Worried what others,
Think of them!
Out of his mouth spouts so much tosh,
At the hand car wash!
© Baldock Bard 2013
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