Dear Uncle Felix

Dear Uncle Felix,
I want to be rich like you,
A jet and yacht like the ones you’ve got.
What do I do?

Go and talk to your teacher.
Drown yourself in the moat.
The jet and the yacht I rent, you clot.
I enclose a five-pound note.

Dear Uncle Felix,
I want to be rich like you,
The fiver’s spent but my bike is bent.
What do I do?

Sell yourself to a pervert.
Write to the police.
Do whatever you think is clever.
Here’s twenty quid for some peace.

Dear Uncle Felix,
I want to be rich like you,
My girlfriend’s preggers, we live like beggars,
What do I do?

Confess your sins to the vicar.
Subsist on bread and jam.
Batter the cat or eat your hat.
This fifty’s for a pram.

Dear Uncle Felix,
I want to be rich like you,
For a thousand quid you’d be well rid
Of ‘What do I do?’

Ah, blackmail is it, young ’un?
That’s better— let me see.
I admire your cheek, next Monday week
Report to work for me!

Mandalay, Mustique August 12, 2007

With apologies and a respectful tip of a sheepish hat to Allan Ahlberg’s ‘Please Mrs. Butler’ (Kestrel, 1983)

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