So, we ask Bill what he thought of Saturday’s game and he says, “Jurassic Park!”
And tells us he’s over the moon.
Which we all know means, in Bill Language, that it was a good one,
And his team probably won.
We don’t ask him what team he follows, though.
One day he’ll wear a badge or a scarf, or he’ll let it slip in conversation,
Or we’ll remember that we’re interested in these things
As we get the pints in.
And when he’s asked about that appointment with the doctor
That he’d told us about, only because he’d had a face like a frog that day
And it had drawn comment, as it would (it was no Kermit, let me tell you,
Or, if it was, it was Kermit after being told Miss Piggy’s lawyers were onto him),
He tells us that he’s got one foot out of the grave,
Although he’s still not sure about the other one.
(This is, we think, a joke, and we laugh accordingly).
He’s fit as a fiddle, now, though;
He’s as fresh as a daisy;
He’s had his wake-up call and he’s on the mend,
And, funnily enough, we’ve got the pints in before we know
The exact prescription.
But he’s never exact is Bill,
Our beating around the bush, idiom-steeped Bill,
And so that’s our excuse, isn’t it,
For not giving him the query he can’t bat away with
His dime a dozen sayings.
“How are you, mate?
And how about cutting to the chase this time, eh?”
Mike Hickman (@MikeHicWriter) is a writer from York, England. He has written for Off the Rock Productions (stage and audio), including 2018’s “Not So Funny Now” about Groucho Marx and Erin Fleming. He has recently been published in EllipsisZine, Dwelling Literary, Bandit Fiction, Nymphs, Flash Fiction Magazine, Brown Bag, and Red Fez. His co-written, completed six-part BBC radio sit com remains frustratingly as unproduced as it was the last time he updated this biography. And then there’s the small matter of the 10 completed novels…