Hello again, and welcome to the latest edition of The Autolycan. I found this story in The Week, and thought it was a lovely idea. Of course, if some of our train companies took up the idea they'd have time to produce the rail equivalent of Paradise Lost. Hope you like it - and please feel free to pass it on to others if you do.
FLIGHTS
OF FANCY
Travellers
flying out of LaGuardia airport in New York can now order a poem to
reach them on arrival at their destination. The poem is free and
delivered to their phones. “When it's a short flight we have to be
really quick” said Gideon Jacobs, who runs the project, Landing Pages. The
Week
Dear
Mr Jacobs
What
a fantastic idea! I love it! I'd very much like to join your
project – please consider this poem as my application form. Plus –
and I hope you won't consider this too presumptuous from someone who
isn't actually on the team yet - what if we could get someone who
could set it to music? We could send travellers a song to cheer them
up at their destination. If it's a long flight we could even get a
band and some dancers, make a big showstopping production number out
of it and send them the video. Then they could get all the other
passengers to join in while they wait for hours at immigration!
Unlike the last plane I was on, this could really take off!
Hoping
to hear from you soon!
Master
Autolycus
You've
packed your bags with all you need, you're off to find the sun!
Marbella! Alicante!! On your way!
A fortnight doing nothing – it'll
really be such fun,
Sangria, sea and beaches every day!
It's parties, booze and sex for you –
no living like a nun -
The sun will shine while you are
making hay!
Enjoy it while you can my friend, it
really is no crime,
Your days and nights are gonna be
ridiculous, sublime -
And now it's getting hard to find
another word to rhyme -
Have the greatest ever getaway!
But just a word before you go – your
flight will be at five,
So turn up not a minute after three.
There are no trains or buses so you'll
simply have to drive,
So the car park man can charge a
mammoth fee.
There's nothing much that's open yet –
the airport's quite a dive
And there's nowhere you can get a cup
of tea.
The lengthy queue in front of you is
scarcely picturesque,
You're sweaty and bad tempered as you
inch towards the desk,
And the questions they will ask you
there are pretty damned grotesque -
But today, this is your apogee!
You've waved your bags off doubtfully
and joined another queue
Where security will frown at you and
glare.
You'll have to take your belt off now
before they'll let you through
And clutch your trousers to conceal
your bottom bare.
You'll be patted down and wanded –
it's all such a ballyhoo
But now they've got a toy by which
they swear -
If you're lucky you will pose to have
a total body scan,
It's no good being bashful or a shy
and modest Anne,
Your pic will now get sent off to a
laughing cameraman
Who can scrutinise your derrière!
And eventually you'll get on board and
squeeze into your seat
With a man the size of Wales to your
right.
And you realise that your space is now
invaded by his feet
Which you have to feel is rather
impolite.
Then a rugby team from Slough will be
a trifle indiscreet
And it's still the middle of the
bloody night!
But now the pilot's telling you
there's going to be a wait,
Some bags must be offloaded and he
cannot leave the gate,
Your seven hour trip will be a minimum
of eight -
But he wishes you a pleasant flight!
The seat in front comes hurtling back
– it's well within your bounds,
And it makes you want to shout and
scream and yell.
And the big man squirms and fidgets in
a way that just astounds
Then someone's knees assault your back
as well.
So by the time you disembark your
misery abounds
And you know you've journeyed all the
way through hell....
But then you sense there's something
wrong – you feel it in your gut,
Your bags aren't going to be there and
you fuss and fret and tut,
Well, they're trundling round in
circles.... though there is a major 'but'.....
On a thousand mile distant carousel!
