Don't Give Me
That Carp
by Katy Darby
I used to
like my goldfish, used to think that we were
mates
We had marvellous times together, sharing loves
and laughs and hates
I had won him at a funfair in the dim and distant
past
And I felt that our relationship was truly meant
to last.
Well, I don't mean to be bitchy, but I think
it’s pretty low
For my so-called friend to ditch me – why?
You really want to know?
Well I'll tell you. Wasn't sex or drugs or
fighting over rent:
There's a much more venal reason why my little
goldfish went.
It was money, pure and simple. Though I met his
every need
I suppose he was a goldfish with
ambitions still to feed:
But I really couldn't hack it when I saw him in
my tweeds
And my interviewing jacket (slightly stained by
flakes and weeds).
There may be no law against it, and I'm not a
speciesist
But there are some innovations that I think we
should resist:
One of these is giving management consultant jobs
to fish.
(I'm all for equal opportunities but that just
takes the piss.)
So he started at Accenture and he left me on my
own:
In his capital adventure he preferred to be alone.
Bounced the emails that I sent, yeah, and turned
off his mobile phone –
Saw him lunching with backbenchers in the Groucho.
I was thrown.
After all that I had done for him he wouldn't
take my calls!
All his lackeys sent me packing when I chased him
down the halls
Of Accenture. "In a meeting," was the
answer (load of balls)
I was trying to build bridges: he was busy
building walls.
And the worst thing was the papers: he was always
in the press.
"Golden Goldfish Tipped For Rich List"
– going to premieres in that dress:
I just couldn’t get away. The Guardian said
he had finesse.
"No, that's FINS!" I yelled, and nearly
bought the Mail in my distress.
So my fish is very popular and I am very poor
Since the nicest landlords drop ya if you punch
holes in the door
(Think I might just move to Skopje, and prepare
myself for war.)
Say I'm carping – I can't stop ya – but
I can’t take any more!
FIN
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