Friday, 17 July 2015

The Exaggeration Game

Time for another little poem based upon the trials and tribulations of the Cycling Angling Rambling Truss. The numbers of visitors fell from 15 million down to 10 million when the Trust was first formed. Formed phoenix like from the wreckage of the bonfire of the quangos. The fire sale after the meltdown of the world banking systems. Back then the new Trust was being honest in publishing the number of visitors to its waterways. Stating at the time that the annual number of visitors was down from 13 millions to 10 millions.

The Exaggeration Game

When I was just a little child, it was a huge sin to tell a 'fib';
'porky pies' were the one thing, you'd never admit you did; 
warned about telling 'white lies', told off for telling 'tall tales';
a fiction of a child's imagination, a failed lesson all to no avail.

'Liar liar! your trousers are on fire', oh how it was denied;
do you see what I see, could the figures be a tiny little lie;
Where are the 'fabled' visitors, in their thousands on the cut;
the claims of such vast numbers, for me does not stack up.

I'm cruising along the lonely cut, for mile after empty mile;
but no one believes the numbers, the figures seem purile.
travelling daily along the canal, its a very lonesome place;
it makes such a welcome change, to even see a smiling face.

So where are the 'elusive' visitors, there is no one around;
such vast and growing numbers, so why can't they be found;
a 'figment' of the imagination, 'creative' accounting is one way;
I can't find anyone doing a tally, is there no one who can say.

Its just a random telephone sample, it seems this is what's done;
what are the questions asked, why is everyone keeping schtum;
but pressing for an honest answer, can sometimes be such fun;
but no one is prepared to own up, to reveal the way its done.

But someone knew the answer, and shared with all the truth;
getting the requested information, did not require a sleuth;
but now its in the open, and we can all clearly see the lie;
more smoke and mirrors, that leaves us all to wonder why!

The Alternative Canal Laureate

Evan Keel.
"The events depicted in this poem are fictitious. Any similarity to any person living or dead is merely coincidental. No person should without the prior permission of the author assume the identity of any character. These poems are a story that could be based on actual events. In certain cases incidents, characters and time lines have been changed for dramatic purposes. Certain characters may be accidental composites, or entirely fictitious. I was helped in my creative endeavour by my friend's telepathic cat named Huxley. Huxley assumes all responsibility for any mistakes and errors."

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