Poetry

"LE CHAT EST DANS LA DOUCHE"

written by: Nick Turk

The following poem was inspired by one Alistair Wright; a young guy that Heather and I encountered recently. He engaged us in conversation shortly after we sat down opposite him on a train one Sunday evening back in June and it is to him that I dedicate this poem " a heartfelt eulogy to love, language, wedding rings and pussies...

Greetings, dear listener, won't you lend me your ear?
For this tale I'm about to recite.
Of the time me and Heather,
Were travelling together,
And we met this young fellow called Wright.
This amiable young lad that we met on vacation,
Who we'd presently engaged in polite conversation,
As we headed, one evening, towards Tonbridge Station,
For he seemed, at first glance, rather bright

So Mr. Alistair Wright, for that indeed was his name,
Was lost in a deep concentration.
And right there on the train,
My tired little brain,
Had soon come to the realization.
That I was by far more adept than I thought,
At remembering bits of the French I'd been taught,
As we helped him translate this old book that he'd bought,
As we headed to our destination.

So we asked of young Alistair, "Why do you read
That there book that you have to translate?"
And he said "Though it's slow,
I thought I'd give it a go,
But I fear that my French ain't that great!"
"But I've met this young bird and she's acting my tutor"
"This young foreign chick I met via my computer"
"And if I meet her I could be her eventual suitor"
"And she could be my eventual mate"

So Alistair appeared quite an amiable chap
And soon gave us a brief explanation.
And as his tale doth unfurl,
We learn more of this girl,
Who aids his bilingual frustration.
This mysterious French girl who's taught him the words,
Who he's met on the Internet, though he'd much have preferred,
To have met her in person so at last he'd have heard,
Her speak the right pronunciation.

"So how is your French?", he enquired at once,
In the hope that we'll help with his mission.
So I told this monsieur,
That I spoke just "un peu",
Though I was hardly in the position,
To translate a whole book though I'd give it a go,
And for a very short while I maintained quite a flow,
Till we came to those words that I simply don't know,
And we'd look up the damn definition.

And so our discussion continued awhile,
With young Alistair lost in a trance.
And as his tale doth unravel,
He said "One day I'll travel",
"And start a new life out in France".
For he longed that his life was that little bit better,
So we talk of this girl and though he still hasn't met her,
He should just take the plunge and compose her a letter,
And it may well all lead to romance.

Now I thought it was time that I gave some advice,
That would help should young Alistair decide,
To book this young belle,
Into a smart French hotel,
In the hope of ensnaring a bride.
And so I told him a handy French phrase to repeat,
Just in case said hotel room came with a small treat,
And as he stepped into the luxury shower (ensuite),
He discovered a moggy inside!

"Le chat est dans la douche", I told him at once,
A short phrase that would surely empower,
One faced with a moggy,
That's getting all soggy,
And stopping you using your shower.
And not only that but you're sure to look smart,
And I'm sure that the two of you won't be apart,
And before very long you'll have captured her heart,
As your skill with her language will wow her.

So young Alistair just sits there and looks all bemused,
As I explain that it probably ain't,
Gonna help much with his stress,
To have to deal with this mess,
As it 'd try the patience of even a saint.
As I'm sure that the manager would drive you insane,
When he knew that your ranting was simply in vain,
For the simple core fact was that you couldn't explain,
The true nature of the feline complaint.

So then Alistair told us a fact of his own,,
That he said was apparently true.
For as his gaze it did linger,
On the ring on my finger,
He enquired as to whether I knew.
That wearing it on my right hand was as to convey,
The surprise fact that I was (allegedly) gay,*
And so dear young Alistair went on to say,
Though it seemed he just hadn't a clue.

So now it was our turn to look all bemused,
As young Alistair went on to reveal,
That I was also supposed,
To be violently opposed,
To marriage, though it sounded surreal.
But he stood by the fact that he was totally right,
And as the train, and the three of us, sped into the night,
We deduced that young Alistair wasn't so bright,
As our laughter we tried to conceal.

But before very long we were let off the hook,
As the train rumbled into the station.
And as we shared a brief smile,
We both pondered awhile,
On young Alistair's strange observation.
For who could predict where his thoughts they were heading,
Of travelling, pussy cats and objections to weddings,
But quite frankly by this time he was doing my head in,
And we felt we'd been granted salvation.

So we said our farewells and then went on our way,
And as the train rattled out of the station,
I asked myself "Will he,
Ever meet his French filly?"
"And is it love or just infatuation?"
For if he fancied this girl and he wanted to date her,
At a push he could hire a foreign translator,
'Cos if he twiddled his thumbs and left it much later,
He could lose her through procrastination.

And as for the matter of the ring that I wore,
Well we soon had decided, alas,
After some reservation,
That Mr. Wright's information,
Was somewhat outdated and crass.
And though we considered he possibly could,
Have just muddled his facts and just misunderstood,
We expected that there was a strong likelihood,
He was just talking out of his ass.

But so I'll finish this poem with one final thought,
Though I guess that it's more of a plea.
And I'll say a quick prayer,
To our friend, Alistair,
For I think that you'll all quite agree.
That regardless of how this relationship may end,
That should these two lovers determine to spend,
Just one night at a hotel it doesn't descend,
Into just another cat " astrophe!

* N.B. Oh, and regarding our "friend''s" little nugget of information the following text is taken from the website About.com so take heed Mr. Wright....

"Nowadays, when a person wears a ring on their right hand ring finger, it means that he wants to dress up his appearance a bit and that's the only place his favourite ring fits. Besides, his only other alternative may have been the left hand ring finger, which (as you know) is reserved for the wedding band.
Many decades ago, some gay men would use left and right side signals to indicate their sexuality or preferences in bed. This was back in the days when being gay meant an instant beat down or arrest. We had few choices but to use Bat Signals to find each other. These indicators, though no longer used today, lived on and spread outside of the gay community. They eventually developed into perhaps one of the silliest stereotypes about gay men. Every man was terrified that if they got their ear pierced on the wrong side they would be tagged a homosexual.
Thankfully, times have changed and being gay has become less taboo. Those indication of sexuality have gone south as well. Right, left hand rings; tight, loose pants; tall or short frame- there is no universal sign a person is gay. If your friend's sexuality baffles you, then the best way to tell if he is gay is to ask him"