Mike Alma did a sterling job selling Girl’s Got Rhythm and recorded the experience in a poem 🙂

The Temporary Book-seller

A poem by Mike Alma

“How much, guv’?”

“A fiver to you, bruv’,
And you, sister?”

“Go on, make it four, mister.”

“I can’t do that, chick …
Well, maybe, if you kiss me quick.”

“I won’t do that, you stupid perve –
Don’t know how you’ve got the nerve.”

“Me neither – never mind –
Just a thought, if you’d be so kind.”

“My hubby, ‘ere, is eight foot eight,
So I think you must anticipate
An exit through that closed door, there …”

“Do you think that threat is really fair?”

“Fair or not, that’s what you’ll get,
And I can’t see no safety net!”

“’Ere I go, I’m on my way –
Flying now – no time to pray
For redemption, less it comes real quick,
‘Cause I’m trav’lin’ at a fair old lick.”

Crash, bang, wallop – stars above –
“How ‘bout two pound fifty, luv?”

N.B. Must be read in a North London accent – essential to properly comprehend the nuances present in the spoken word associated with certain areas of Ponders End, Enfield Wash and Brimsdown (Brims-daaahn) – no, not cockney … not even Dick Van (‘ello guv’na’) Dyke.