19.10.2020
The Old Lady
'I don't need your help to pack my things.Away with you, you're a bother' said the old lady
as she trampled her suitcase like Popeye.
She was still flexible as a bee1
And so she set off firmly to the train station2
as they all pretended to mourn her departure.
She went away merrily, holding her suitcase
with just a few pauses to massage her kidneys.
'I don't need your help' she said to the inspector
'to carry my suitcase, it'll only be fifteen minutes.
The nursing home is in the suburbs, they say it's
a real palace where the old play scrabble and ludo.
You see, Mister, I just can't stand that.
The only thing I like is westerns full of gunshots.
I've seen 'Riding through hell' fourteen times.
I'd gladly tell you the plot, but that's my stop.'
'I don't need your help' she said to the nurse
'to unfold the bedsheets. Leave me alone, I'm busy'
Then, away from prying eyes, she pulled out
twenty bottles of a famous plonk, went down
to the main hall where the elderly ladies and gents
were playing ludo while scratching their ears.
'Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm Fanchon.
Would anyone of you happen to have a corkscrew?'
'I don't need your help' she said to the doctor
as she raised her third glass of wine to him,
while the wrinklies, gathered around the clock,
sang a four-part rendition of 'Dudule's big cock'3.
And a ravishing scene unfolded
of eighty dotards leaving the premises
to comb all the old people's homes in the country,
snatching bewildered moribunds from death's clutch.
'I don't need your help' she said to the priest
who endeavoured to pray at an old man's bedside.
'Don't you see this cadaver is not dead yet?
He may have stopped breathing, but he still has a hard on.
A little jerking off and he'll be right as rain,
just like a good crank handle on an old Standard Ten.'
The revolted priest fell spread-eagled on the floor.
He was still breathing, but had no hard on.
'I don't need your help' bellowed all the geezers
each time a MP tried to take care of them,
'since you could not care for us properly
when we were still young enough to trust you.
You'd do anything to secure your seat,
if crab lice had a right to vote, you'd be the clap.
Since we're unproductive, we won't produce
yet another stupid jerk at the head of State.'
'I don't need your help' she said to the scavenger
who pushed her into the senior citizen's ghetto.
You technocratic bastard who coined that term,
with the utmost contempt, you bastard, I...
...fuck you in the ass!
Well, she was about to say it, but that wouldn't be right.
As Ronsard , a swearword in a woman's mouth is a slug on a rose.
Go ahead please, Rose...
Blast, first time I actually curse.
And, while pouring herself a nice glass of port wine,
she gave him the finger, just like Popeye.
She was still flexible as a bee.