Friday, 7 August 2009

The Secret Agent - A relay poetry challenge

My own efforts over the last few months have brought such brilliantly funny comments, and many in rhyme, that I thought it would be fun to try a relay poetry challenge - a team effort.

In this, you need to read the following and then add your own verse, afterwards. Then each person after you will read your verse and continue the story on from there, giving our character his destination and his assignment. The fact that our man has to be rapidly approaching 90 doesn't matter. He is clearly superhuman. It should be fun - I don't think it's ever been done before - so see what you can make of it.


The Secret Agent

I've often wondered, haven't you,
About the folks around me.
They way they dress, how they behave,
They really do confound me.
One good example recently,
While I shopped in a store,
A wizened looking bent old man,
Not more than four foot four.
Inside his shopping bag he had,
In this I kid you nat,
A massive pair of garden shears
And great big rubber mat.
The weight of all his baggages,
All crammed right to the brink,
Betrayed a strength much greater than
He'd like to have us think.
This set my mind to wondering
What might he need these for?
What secretive identity
Did he hope we'd ignore?

His name, I have decided, is
Max Van Der Klimpt the third
Your task now is to follow him
And tell us what you've heard ...

Good luck!! The dafter, the better!

31 comments:

  1. Herr Max Van Der Klimpt
    Dodging closed circuit television
    As furtively he Gestapoly limpt
    Deep under cover on a secret mission

    With forged passport or travel docket
    Sporting fake moustachio'd disquise
    Stole plans of a top secret rocket
    After all, the Gestapo never buys

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  2. Well done, Professor! That will do nicely, thankyou. However, I think we may be stuck here for a day or so, because poor old TFE is in hospital; MAB is also off colour (she is a rather radiant shade of puce I hear), and Mum's computer has caught swine machine virus off my car! But, patience is a virtue, so we'll see what the next few days brings us!

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  3. Sorry to hear about TFE, hope he is mended soon
    As for MAB, not sure puce goes with hessian, it's not a good look
    None the less I hope she too returns to fine fettle
    What is it with your family and inanimate objects
    By the way I think this is a brilliant idea, the like of which I had not heard of before and I am pleased to be involved unless we get sued in which case
    Ah! There I'm not

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  4. Ah now, if we get sued, I'll just tell them I've gone out and not to bother coming back until I'm in, but I don't know when that'll be. See?! I've thought of everything.

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  5. ...it only steals the gen it needs
    and carries out it's deadly deeds.
    So our dear hero, Little Maxi
    grabbed all he could and hailed a taxi!

    'To Nempnett Thrubwell mate', he cried
    whilst climbing in the door.
    'and make it quick or I'll not pay
    and you'll go home real poor'.

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  6. Hoorah! This darling machine is on my side today and I have actually left my offering for you. Ignore all emails!

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  7. Methinks your moustache isn't straight
    You are probably in disguise
    And a Nazi with a dodgy gait
    Wouldn't pay nor tip me otherwise

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  8. Mum, I'm so glad your computer is now behaving. Sadly, my laptop is about to depart this world, as the right hand hinge has completely snapped off! But your poem! ... I've obviously found ANOTHER talent. Please excuse me while I'm sick!

    Professor,as always, right on the button. Thank you. Can't wait until I can bully the others into putting in their penny's worth!

    Clare: Lovely to see you! And thank you so very much for the award and for not paying too close attention to the absolute self-indulgent dribble that I write here.

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  9. "How very dare you!" Max replied
    "My tash maybe wonky"
    "My gait maybe shonky"
    "but my arse certainly aint tight!"

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  10. ...and with a very Teuton glare
    he gathered up his loot
    and stormed away with not a care
    and didn't give a hoot.
    .
    Our Max, he radio-ed HQ
    to tell them what he'd found.
    His boss was pleased as very few
    agents were straight and sound.

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  11. My name is Michael Patti Felous
    (soon to be opening in the West End production of Tinker Taylor Yoghurt Maker and not a lot of people know that)
    And I am a spy taker
    But at weekends just for an hour or two
    I am a part time yoghurt maker

    You never would have caught me
    Nor seen through mein deceit
    I have a false leg you see
    But unfortunately real feet

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  12. You've got a lot to answer for Weevil - I have been taken over by this flipping challenge and it won't leave me alone!!
    ........
    Max settled down to study
    all the papers he had found.
    They covered every inch of space
    and spread across the ground.

    To his surprise and horror
    Instead of codes and plans
    He saw he'd stolen recipes
    For meals from stuff in cans.

    The Women's Institute Cookery Book
    for harassed busy Mums
    Was what he'd got instead of
    all that secret stuff for Huns.

    His face went white, his body shook
    He couldn't take it in.
    He'd gone and pinched a cookbook
    And risked his life and limb.

    The well known Women's Institute
    would him no mercy show.
    They'd burn his false leg on the fire
    and step on all his toes.

    They terrify even burly men
    and Max was no exception
    He made some yoghurt to calm his nerves
    Then rang down to reception........

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  13. I have zis electric shears to wash
    Cos I’ve lost mein manicure scissors
    I need to tidy und trim mein moustache
    If I am to escape the rozzers

    Mixing electricity with water
    Is sure to lay me flat
    Truly a thing I shouldn’t oughta
    Zo! I’ll stand upon mein rubber mat

    Rats! und drat! mit curses too
    I hadn’t counted on Patti Felous
    A last drink for the condemned man ach! tea mit out sugar
    (Scoffing down the evidence, a drink is too wet without one)
    Are you trying to kill me? Says he whipping out his Luger

    All bloggers form a mental image and at once begin to snigger
    Silence! Dummkopfs mein finger is on zee trigger
    Silence I say or the trigger I vill pull it
    Rats! und curses yet again
    I have forgotten to load the bullets

    Zo! I schtik mein finger in the socket
    But the effects were rather flat
    Then suddenly skyward bound like a V2 rocket
    Upon stepping from the rubber mat

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  14. Hello? Is that Max Van Der Klimt?
    Skippy Doo McFergus, here.
    Get off my spying patch at once
    Or I'll give ee a thick ear.

    You get me into trouble, sir,
    I cannot spy at all.
    You blow my cover constantly
    At Cribbs Causeway Mall.

    I'm hiding in La Senza,
    Investigating thongs,
    In you charge with hardware tools
    You've bought from Wilkinsons.

    Bugger off with your little mat,
    And stick the shears where you like.
    I will not respond to idle threats of
    'You vill be shot' - so on yer bike.

    I am a consumer spy for retailers,
    And I will keep my beat - Beware!
    So stop cutting off the labels,
    So that prices I can't compare.

    We all know you are not German,
    But from Wonkifootistan.
    And that burkha diguise is rubbish,
    Just like your orange tan.

    May your chopping shears go rusty,
    I hope GCHQ find your lair.

    AND

    I've peed on that bloody mat on which
    You sit and take your prayer.

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  15. Things were getting nasty
    and Max didn't know what to do
    so he bought himself a pasty
    and ate it in the loo.

    While there he donned a new disguise
    and came out to the street
    dressed a la mode from M & S
    and looking rather sweet.....

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  16. His blue twinset with some heels,
    Were really quite the pip.
    He pranced along the walkway,
    Til something made him trip.

    Old Skippy (hiding in the plants),
    Put out foot to stall him.
    Max went flying into space,
    And rapidly started falling.

    He was in trouble, sure enough
    What a terrible, tragic scene.
    He landed on the open shears
    So Max was now Maxine.

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  17. Mein hair is rather fetching with this cute little curl
    I rather fancy this, seeing as now I am a slip of a girl
    If only I had bigger thruppeny bits
    I gladly trade them for this bag of cut off bits

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  18. Hello thrice, what's going on here?
    You, sir, seem to be a cutie, sweet and tender
    But I suspect and fear
    That you're a gender bender
    A left limping footer or even quite the queer

    Officer, is it true that
    What I say you must take down
    If so I say trousers
    Now I can flee this town

    Confucius say under a frown
    Spy with skirts up
    Run faster than officer with trousers down
    And he won't catch up

    Yes! Faster than a cart horse
    Perhaps faster than a tractor
    I did not make up this of course
    It is the Maxine Factor

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  19. Hello! (in hushed tones) This is GCHQ
    Skippy, Is that really you?
    Bog off! (in loud tones) cos you make us sick
    Not once a tip off, just click, click bleeding click.
    What's that? Maxine's fallen down a mine shaft........

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  20. And he ran and ran to find solace
    With others who'd accept his new gender.
    He wore pink cashmere, so camp,
    As his corsets were cramped
    And his man-boobs were getting too tender.

    A woman's group made him most welcome,
    And he joined as though it was fate.
    They taught him to knit,
    And to crochet small mits
    And his victoria sponge was first rate.

    Well, the cookbook he'd pilfed was just magic
    And his culinary goals were sky high.
    He arranged flowers in a vase,
    Labelled jam in their jars,
    And became president of the W.I.

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  21. But Inspector Edith Sergeant who had infiltrated
    But was made to clean it up
    Had realised she was not as stated
    And so the game was up

    Dressing in lace trimmed lederhosen
    Was sure to do the trick
    Now his name Yvonne Von Smallhausen
    Aha! You thought her, Herr Flick

    C’mon son, give me the gun
    If shooting me you’re fixin’
    I’ve no back up, I’m only one
    But will come back to life as Dixon

    Your girly clothes are just camp
    In fact you ain’t even hard
    So don’t mess with The Blue Lamp
    I’ve read the script, you’re Dirk Bogarde

    So c’mon son, submit to me your master
    Cos if you don’t it will be a recipe for disaster

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  22. I'm chortling too much to think straight at present - you Professor, and Aunt Bernard, are doing just fine.

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  23. Now Now Heather
    You can do it
    You can be Inspector Gorse
    Broom! Broom!

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  24. Er ... excuse me ... Can I have a go, please?

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  25. This is FANTASTIC - we have a three way battle!! I'm SO glad I don't have to pick a winner!

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  26. Come on Weev - don't leave it all to us - you started it so I think you're allowed to finish it!!

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  27. Well, there they stood frozen.
    Unsure what to do.
    Not one person would make the first move.
    Poor Skippy scared witless.
    'Maxine' stuck on 'hold'
    While her stylist didn't approve.

    Each looked at the other,
    Bewildered for sure,
    Unaware all the others existed.
    They'd spent years believing
    The others' deceiving
    Until their identities misted.

    Yvonne took a hostage.
    Felous made a mess ...
    Spilling yoghurt all over the place.
    And poor Inspector Sergeant
    Now had to confess that
    She'd never unravel this case.

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  28. "Aah! Bollocks!" said she,
    "I'm off to the pub!"
    As she left, she heard "I'll drink to that!"
    From the quiet bent old man
    With a limp, and a bag,
    With some shears and a large rubber mat.

    THE END!!!

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  29. I just want to say a HUUUUUUGE Thank you to everybody for 'dropping their little pebble in the pool'. I'm so glad I did this and - if you lot will still speak to me heifer, heifer again - we'll do it all again sometime soon.

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  30. A very fitting ending dear Weevil. Great stuff.

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