The Modern Miambist

[John Conyard]

This amused me. It may amuse you.

The Modern Miambist

To celebrate the publication of the new Aris & Phillips volume Herodas: Mimiambs, Oxbow Books held a competition to write a modern mimiamb, the bawdy humorous poetry originally composed by Herodas in the Hellenistic era.

In the end they felt that two entries should share the title of Mimiambist 2009, and each receive the prize of £100 to spend at Oxbow Books.

So congratulations and £100 of Oxbow vouchers go to Roland Phillips and Dylan James

by Dylan James

Son: Gentleman of the jury, I stand before you appalled
To have walked in on my mother, well, being balled.
Not bald, I say, though grey hairs dulled her wits,
I only thank the gods they also covered her tits…

How did this happen, I hear you ask?
In my lack of glory you now shall bask
As I recount for you that godless sight
Which now stirs in my memory, oh that fateful night!

Home early from class as the golden sun sank
Into the dark bosom of the mountains’ flank.
I pushed the door open and heard a sound
That chilled me to the bone, from my head to the ground…

Mum: Now, now, son, you’re being unreasonable,
The act you witnessed is hardly one treasonable.
I’ve been kidding myself I’d have support in old age,
Why is it that this has got you in such a rage?
Your father and I love each other very much -
And, for the record, it was called a “double Dutch”…

Son: Blimey, Mum, must you give it a name?!
How can I ever look at you and Dad the same?
On the kitchen table, of all possible places
My parents wore grunting looks upon their faces.
Contorted and twisted were these two old monkeys -

Mum: Quiet down, son, we were just getting funky!
There’re plenty more hugs in me left, I say,
And we will keep it going till the end of our days.
Luckily now we can cure all life’s ills
With a double daily dosage of little blue pills.

Son: It’s this kind of talk that makes me protest,
Since, as a son, I feel less than blessed.
Plenty more hugs left in you, you say?
Then leave it at hugs and be on your way!
The monstrosity I saw is for youthful charms,
Not for parents who carry children in their arms!
To see one’s progenitors making the beast with two backs,
Makes one sick to the stomach, now I think I’m gonna yak!

Family Dog: Enough with such rambling! It’s beginning to feel
Like we’re all just roadkill that’s stuck to the wheel.
What is it you want, that you’ve given me this role
And bribed me with biscuits and a full water bowl?

Son: Kick her out of the house, and kick Dad out too!
I’d do it myself if I could find bigger shoes.
It seems the heavens put life into old stones
And so, for that reason, you’re out on your own!

Mum: Sorry, son, but it’s my name on the deed,
And when it comes to law, I always give heed…

Son: Oh gods, your innuendo has aroused the bile
That has only been settled in my stomach awhile.
So you won’t budge an inch, well, that’s no matter
For a thought now compels me myself to scatter
As I see for the thousandth upon thousandth time,
That accursed sight in the eye of my mind.
“Argh!” I screamed, and recoiled at the vision
And in that very instant I made my decision.
Never again will I hear you so shout
I swear, by the gods - I’m moving out!




by Roland Phillips

Two Lap-dancers discuss the political and social implications of the Deputy Prime Minister’s suggestion that the cost of corporate entertainment be non-tax deductible. Their “Manager” looks on.

Nikki: Let’s put a tracksuit over bra and pants:
And go upstairs and out to get some fresh,
And even if it is Old Compton Street.
To clear the stink of sweat and cheap champagne
From nostrils.

Carlo: OK, girls, take five, that’s all
We mustn’t keep the punters waiting or
They’ll want their money back

Nikki: So what’s the news?

Jakki: I’m told that Hattie Harman wants to close
Us down because we ‘scriminate against
The women.

Nikki: Giv’s a fag. How come? Who says?

Jakki: I read it in the Mail – it must be true.
This Hattie Harman says they claim it as
Expenses, so they don’t pay tax on what
They spend on us and booze and all the show.

Nikki: But I don’t get it: how does that discrim
-inate against the girls? It’s only girls
Can do the job: whoever heard of blokes
Lap dancing and the other stuff we do?
Suppose we got some blokes in thongs, would that
Make Hattie happy? Who’s she anyway?

Jakki: She’s Deputy Prime Minister, God knows
How Gordon stands a bossy bitch like that.
I never did like her equality.
But, no: it wouldn’t make her happy ‘cos
She says it’s only blokes who come to watch:
It’s only them who make the audience
And female employees are left behind
And feel left out.

Nikki: I still don’t understand:
They’re welcome, whether girls or blokes, downstairs,
Provided that they pay the entrance charge -

Jakki: And tips?

Nikki: And tips, and girls can claim it on
Expenses like the blokes, for all I care.
Though why a girl should want to come and see
Us do our thing, beats me.

Jakki That’s just the point:
They don’t, and so they get no benefit,
Or tax advantage.

Nikki: And so Hattie says
We ‘scriminate against the girls? I see:
Oh well that’s simple then, we offer them
Some entertainment too: my men in thongs
Should do the trick: the girls won’t feel left out,
But have the self same privilege as chaps.

Carlo: OK, you girls, time’s up: let’s dance those laps.