Malcolms Folly

On a Friday when all toil is over
It’s time to relax after a long week in work
Some head to the gym, to the movies or maybe head for the hills
Straight down to the pub was our Malcolm’s usual perk

But after a skin full he gets very hungry you see
And likes a hot curry to sit and eat
However “CLOSED DUE TO FIRE” read the banner on his usual haunt
Unperturbed, he headed for the new place up the street

Already warned of its growing reputation
For serving up the hottest curry around
“No scran’s too hot for me, lad!” Malcolm declared
“Gizza lager, an I’ll soon ‘ave the lot downed”

So he sat and summoned the waiter
And ordered his usual grub
Just as his mate who had warned him of its ferocity
Saunters in from his own exploits down the pub

“I’ll ‘ave a Chicken Vindaloo, a naan bread, an’ some poppadoms, ta!”
“Oi an Ayatollah, MAKE IT HOT!” Malcolm snarls
“No I’ll tell ya what, I’ll go one better” he said showing off,
“You’d better make it one of those Phalls!”

Well, the first mouthful was indeed very flavoursome
But after the second, he knew he was in big trouble
Because after the third, his face turned darker than beetroot
After the forth, sweat poured from his evening stubble

But our Malcolm was indeed a stubborn fella
Not wanting to surrender in front of a mate
He just kept on eating and eating regardless
Eventually finishing the entire volcanic plate

But soon his stomach began to grumble
Enough to make his hands quiver and then shake
Because from within, a violent storm began to build
Until the whole table began shudder then quake

So making his excuses he headed for the men’s room
To discreetly release his toxic load
But halfway between the table and toilet door
His backside began to implode

He then dropped to his knees as if practicing palates
Amid puzzled diners looking on agog
Grasping his stomach, he grimaced and cried out “OH NO!”
What then followed the papers later coined “A Kashmiri Fog!”

Well no restaurant had never been cleared so quickly
As everyone ran for their lives into the street
The owner was only worried about his loss of business
As chef stood proudly admiring his culinary feat

Ambulances then sped away with the stricken diners
As the fire chief told of a lucky escape
Police later confirmed that it wasn’t the work of terrorists
 Malcolm sulked at missing out on his lemon crepe

But the next morning Malcolm’s Foley came to full fruition
Because as if heated by the forge of a farrier
Emerged the molten remains of his Indian supper
Or as he put it...
 “Talk about pain barrier!”

And so the moral of this saga is quite simple
And is something our Malcolm will surely repeat
Before ordering, always check a curry houses toilet
To see if a 3 point harness has been fitted to the seat!

About this poem

Something not to be taken seriously (Names have been changed to protect the guilty)

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Written on 2012

Submitted by chrisw.65202 on March 16, 2023

Modified on March 16, 2023

2:37 min read

Quick analysis:

Closest metre Iambic hexameter
Characters 2,818
Words 526
Stanzas 14
Stanza Lengths 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 5, 4

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