by John G. Sutton Wife wanted some new stuff in't bedroom A wardrobe with drawers to complete So she dragged me screamin' 't warehouse An' bought what she said was just reet In't showroom it looked proper gradely All pine with a polish on 't top Her said it was just what she wanted So who am I fo' t' say stop? The salesman was really quite helpful Though he gave me a look I thought queer Then missus she pulled out me cheque book Said 'we'll tak' it, no messin' sign here' It were then that I knew the expression O't salesmen, the crafty old sod Was one of quiet amusement As if he knew summat was odd 'Your goods are all sealed in a flat pack' He said with a glint in his eye It was then that my heart began sinking Poor bugger to fix it was I So we get this flat pack 't motor But could we get it inside? It wur a nine foot wide rudy wardrobe Smashed car rear door as we tried At home with me fingers all bleeding I'd trapped them twixt wall and that pack I wur already wishin' an' prayin' She'd let me tak' bugger straight back But my troubles had not even started If only I'd this known before I'd have chucked that flat pack furniture And not let it through me front door The instructions were written in English Least I recognised most of the words But the directions and diagrams differed And the drawings were really absurd I counted the nuts and the widgets The bolts and the dowling and screws The glue and the side clasps and hangers This really was very bad news The missus she stood there arms folded Inspecting the contents with glee 'yon salesman said it were easy' For Einstein perhaps, but not me! Me glasses they soon got steamed up like I'd getten a sweat on me brow Struggling, grunting and trying To fix it together, but how? The drill holes in side 'A' were missing That or just too small to see I broke a screw in the end flange By now I was ready fot' dee' There were bits here and theer on the carpet The dog ate the glue and was sick Me missus she turned var near purple Yelling and calling me thick! In the end I could take it no longer I took axe and chopped it to bits An' burnt bloody lot in't garden Me missus was 'avin' real fits Then I went to t' best shop in 't city An' bought new again off the floor It were fitted and all put together No flat pack for us anymore We've geet that new stuff in our bedroom A wardrobe with drawers fitted in An if thy can fathom flat packing Tha'rt a better mon than me Gungha Din!
The end