Inchcock Views High-Rise Council Pensioners Flat on the 16th Floor


The other day I went to view an warden aided flat,

To get there I had to be strong and an acrobat,

Top of a hill, it was windy, glad I had me hat,

I found the City Councils Commissariat.

We went to look at the flat, on the 16th floor,

I noticed the kicked in panel on the front door,

The place was in a right state, very poor,

Electrics hanging off the wall down to the bare floor,

A smell lingered everywhere, a sweet sickly odour,

Noises from the Romanians living next door.

A distinct feeling of gloom lingered in the air,

I decided I didn’t want to live there,

Although the view from the window was fair,

I turned on a tap, the water was brown… I despair!

I caught the wall and the plaster shred,

A lick of paint will sort that, the Commissariat said,

That only made me cringe and exacerbate,

Then under the sink an insect zoo did await!

The light switch hung off the wall by its wire,

In the front room a non-working electric fire,

The ceiling peeling, electric needing a rewire,

For living here I could not aspire!

I told the Commissariat Thanks but I don’t think so,

She took it like a mortal lethal blow,

She scowled at me, and don’t you know…

She didn’t speak to me again and let me go.


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