My mate Steve's a gargoyle:
he's cemented to a church.
He likes to dribble water
from his ecclesiastic perch
upon the heads of tourists
who wander by below.
He ignores the ones with brollies,
or their hoods up. If you go
past Steve's church, never bare your head!
Or loads of scummy bilge
will be instantly deposited
on it at Steven's will.
All the hairdressers around the church
were quickly forced to close
as proud bearers of spruced barnets
were subjected to a dose
of slop with leaves and bits in
being dribbled on their hair.
'We can't stop him, folks - he's listed!'
The priest cried in despair.
But one day a passing pigeon
observed this mean behaviour.
'That gargoyle's mean - I'll fix him!'
Cooed the conscientious avian,
and saying so he took a spot
above the gargoyle's cornice.
He waited 'til Steve had forgot
his presence, then - no warning! -
he let fly with his own fluid,
and his aim was sure and true,
and suddenly the gargoyle
was awash with pigeon-poo!
'Oh no!' Steve cried, regretting
bitterly the pigeon's visit.
The vengeful bird flew down beside
said 'not so nice now, is it?
Not everybody in this close
deserves slop in their face!
Your water-spewing antics
are, frankly, a disgrace!'
But just then, at the church-house door
came a familiar cove:
a running gob, a face like Pob
- yes, it was Michael Gove!
He'd noticed David Cameron
had claimed to be a Christian:
so now the teacher-hating one
was on a serious mission
to visit every church he could,
to show he was more right-
wing than his own party leader,
and more Christian than Christ!
'Now this dude,' said the pigeon
(who may or may not be a symbol
of the Holy Spirit, now I think of it),
'this dude's a throbbing pimple
on the face of all humanity!
I've chastised you, but observe,
if anyone on earth your far from sanitary
sludge-attack deserves
it's him! And what's more,
should you choose to give him a baptism,
I'll join you! Between both of us
there's no way we can miss him!'
And so as Gove made for the lich-gate
gargoyle and bird alike
released their sludge, let fly with poo:
and both streams made their strike!
The preening free-school merchant,
never steady on his feet,
slipped on the mulch, and tumbled down,
in full view of the fleet
of cameramen he'd asked to come
as witness to his piety,
his deep beliefs, and how he'd lead
a more moral society:
instead, the evening news that night
led with close-up footage
of the minister streaked brown and white
with pigeon-poo and sluices
from the gargoyle's mouth.
His goose was cooked,
career up the spout!
Steve and the pigeon sat and whooped,
the pigeon saying 'See?
Don't waste your bilge on passersby,
take a leaf from me!
When I see his like, I have a fly
above them, and deposit
the remains of what I've eaten
right upon their stuck-up heads!
I find the feeling's sweetened
by the knowledge they're such rotten gits.
I highly recommend it!'
And saying so, he took his leave
of the gargoyle he'd befriended,
and to this day, Steve stays in place,
he still looks grim and gory:
but, ever since that fateful day,
he only sploshes Tories!
***
Inspired partly by today's prompt to write about masonry, partly by the prompt a couple of days ago to try writing a poem for children, partly by the fact that there is a gargoyle on, I think, Chester Cathedral that looks exactly like my comedian pal Stephen 'Friz' Frizzle, and partly by the fact that Michael Gove, a recurring character in my poems the last time I did NaPoWriMo back in 2012, had yet to make an appearance in this year's poems. Until now.
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