The Pontifical Council benefits desk chappy – in Rhyme (Of sorts)


The Pontifical Council benefits desk chappie

I said to the Pontifical Council benefits desk chappy,

Can I get any extra , cause me clothes are getting scrappy,

He said quick like and snappy,

Piss-off you make me unhappy!


But I persisted I told him me name and abode,

Asked him if he could lighten my load,

He said that isn’t no use without yer postcode,

I thought he was going to explode!


I told him about me new ticker and Arthritis,

He said ‘I don’t need to know this,

I told him of me cancer and reflux valve too.

He tutted and out of the door I got threw!

But I returned and again joined the queue.

Do I get any extra for me practising biodegradability?

No he said, nor for your rampant imbecility,

Or for your sexual problems and inability,

Nor for your hearings aids and poor audibility.


I’m getting on yer know I said, and I get dizzy spells,

Aye he says, and yer short of brain-cells!

I begged him to put me up in lodgings or a hotel,

He said; Why not join up in the military,

They want gun fodder aplenty?

I pointed out I was now 69 and in 1970 got thrown out,

Not surprised he said, you’re nothing but an uncouth lout!

He went red in the face and started to shout,

With that he had security throw me out!

I didn’t complain he was doing his job,

Although he was a nasty cruel yob,

I forgot about it I could do no other,

He was after all my younger brother!