Aaron Aardvark’s Alphabetical Advancement ©
Dalton in Furness, England
When I first met Aaron Aardvark,
I said, “How do you do?”
He seemed a little taken aback,
but said, “Fine thanks, how are you?”
“Please, take a seat. How can I help?
Can you put me in the frame?”
He raised his head, then sheepishly said,
“I’d like to change my name.”
His parents had been hippies once.
(Or at least, that was the rumour.)
But one thing that’s for certain,
they’d a wicked sense of humour.
Big fans of the Magic Roundabout,
and toilet humour too?
How else could they have conjured up,
“I see,” I said. (His face grew red.)
“By deed-poll, to be lawful?”
“Whatever’s quick, as I’m just so sick.
The name Zebedee’s just so awful!”
“You just want to change your Christian name?”
I asked, sort of prompting for more.
“That’s right, I want to be “Connor”.
A heroic name for sure!”
“Then when folk come up, and ask me my name,
I can say without a lie,
I am Connor McPooh, of the clan McPooh,
And I can never die!”
At this point I stopped. The penny had dropped.
I knew then my goal was to find,
an underhand way, his decision to sway,
and wipe McPooh out of his mind.
“I shouldn’t really be telling you this,
but we’ve some special offers today.
There’s a name on the list, that’s too good to be missed,
And it’s yours for nominal pay.”
“Aaron Aardvark’s, the name for you.
You’ll go straight to the front of the queue.
Alphabetically speaking, the head of the pack.”
And he smiled, and agreed, it would do.
I passed him the form, in my mis-timed smug way,
thinking, “What clever work, did I do?”
But alas and alack, he passed the form back,
signed by, Aaron Aardvark McPooh.
You just can’t help some folk.