We all know him or her … the one who bellows down their phone in a crowded train or bus and shares the most intimate details of their cat’s castration surgery with 46 other passengers on their way to work on a rainy morning.

Ring a bell? Here is a short poem to celebrate those bellicose cretins. Print, cut out and keep this to read the next time you’re tempted to shove their fuchsia IPhone 7 Plus so far down their throat, they’d be able to eat corn-on-the-cob with their external anal sphincter. Enjoy.



What would we do without our phones
Clamped firmly to our earholes
To share our thoughts most innermost
From here to outer earth poles.

“I’m on the train,” says Ms Pea Brain
“I’ll be there in two hours”
“And we can chat for all of that”
“So let’s make that time ours.”

“Yak, yak, yak, yak” goes Ms Foghorn
With laughter, yelps and guffaws
While sharing her most boring day
And crap about her in-laws.

“Oh please, oh please,” we all cry out
When the train goes through a bad patch
That Madam Foghorn’s guttural shout
Gets drowned by a small tech hitch.
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Now let’s suppose as this thing goes
We’re crossing England’s Channel
As soon as we go under sea
She’s nixed by Euro Tunnel.

For 30 minutes oh, so still
No raucous chat or laughter
Just tea in a cup while she shuts up
And silence rules thereafter.

But not long after, Calais looms
And Foghorn begins booming
No sooner has the train emerged
From sub-aqua unassuming.

This time it’s not a lingual clone
Because we’re here in France
Right now she’s yelling down her phone
Suis arrivée!” Bonne chance…

Have you read your Huff Post today?

Mischieverse is coming…

Excerpted from “Mischieverse: rude humour that sort-of rhymes”

by Suzan St Maur
to be published in 2017
© Suzan St Maur 2016-2017

photo credit: m01229 Laughing and talking on her smartphone via photopin (license)