Clancy of the Overdraft
I have just finished reading a very good, and funny, book recommended by Yuch.
It is called Banks Behaving Badly, by Sue Prendergast.
It is well worth a read, I got it out of the library.
Here is a poem that was in it,
Clancy of the overdraft
I had written him a letter which I had for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I borrowed money several months ago;
He was human when I met him and he seemed of good intention,
So I wrote a note to mention that my overdraft had grown.
And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected
(And I think the same was written in a typeface dipped in red);
‘Twas an ATM that wrote it, and verbatim I will quote in:
‘Your possessions have been noted, we request you sell your bed.’
So I tried to call the banker but discovered in my anger
That a voice machine had answered and referred me to a queue:
‘Your inquiry’s number fifty, Mr. Clancy’s very busy’
So I started going dizzy as my temples nearly blew.
In my wild erratic Panic, visions came of things mechanic
Programmed highly ultra-manic to devour what I own;
So the shares continue rising for the holy enterprising
For the blessed rich have pleasures that the pagans never know.
And the bank has staff to meet them and their humble voices greet them
In the glimmer of the bunker where they keep the golden bars,
And they see the vision splendid of the interest rate extended,
And their diamond-coated credit cards are issued free of charge.
I am sitting in my dingy little bedroom where a stingy
Radiator struggles feebly just to keep our faces warm,
And the noses that are dribbling of my daughter and her siblings
Tells me now there is no quibbling, I must see the bank at dawn.
And in place of human prattle I can hear the fiendish rattle
Of the automated teller counting money on the street;
And the language uninviting of the muggers who are fighting
For a share of granny’s pension who is dying at their feet.
Inside the queues are daunting, and the livid faces haunt me
As we shoulder one another in our rush and nervous haste,
For the banker’s fees are greedy and the teller welcomes queries
Using exponential theories for the charges that he makes.
And somehow I rather fancy that I’d like to strangle Clancy,
Like to drag him by his danglies from a speeding horse and cart,
Till he organises finance for a decent heat appliance –
But I doubt he’d be so tender, Clancy, of the Overdraft.
A. D. Denizen
I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!!
asy
I have just finished reading a very good, and funny, book recommended by Yuch.
It is called Banks Behaving Badly, by Sue Prendergast.
It is well worth a read, I got it out of the library.
Here is a poem that was in it,
Clancy of the overdraft
I had written him a letter which I had for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I borrowed money several months ago;
He was human when I met him and he seemed of good intention,
So I wrote a note to mention that my overdraft had grown.
And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected
(And I think the same was written in a typeface dipped in red);
‘Twas an ATM that wrote it, and verbatim I will quote in:
‘Your possessions have been noted, we request you sell your bed.’
So I tried to call the banker but discovered in my anger
That a voice machine had answered and referred me to a queue:
‘Your inquiry’s number fifty, Mr. Clancy’s very busy’
So I started going dizzy as my temples nearly blew.
In my wild erratic Panic, visions came of things mechanic
Programmed highly ultra-manic to devour what I own;
So the shares continue rising for the holy enterprising
For the blessed rich have pleasures that the pagans never know.
And the bank has staff to meet them and their humble voices greet them
In the glimmer of the bunker where they keep the golden bars,
And they see the vision splendid of the interest rate extended,
And their diamond-coated credit cards are issued free of charge.
I am sitting in my dingy little bedroom where a stingy
Radiator struggles feebly just to keep our faces warm,
And the noses that are dribbling of my daughter and her siblings
Tells me now there is no quibbling, I must see the bank at dawn.
And in place of human prattle I can hear the fiendish rattle
Of the automated teller counting money on the street;
And the language uninviting of the muggers who are fighting
For a share of granny’s pension who is dying at their feet.
Inside the queues are daunting, and the livid faces haunt me
As we shoulder one another in our rush and nervous haste,
For the banker’s fees are greedy and the teller welcomes queries
Using exponential theories for the charges that he makes.
And somehow I rather fancy that I’d like to strangle Clancy,
Like to drag him by his danglies from a speeding horse and cart,
Till he organises finance for a decent heat appliance –
But I doubt he’d be so tender, Clancy, of the Overdraft.
A. D. Denizen
I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!!
asy