Ode on the Death of a Favourite Joke Delivered to a

Famously Difficult Audience

There was a policeman called Bloom
Who took to thinterrogation room
A well-known villain called Slattery.
To make him snitch he was wired
To a fuel cell & Sodium Chloride:
And charged with a salt and battery.
My little jest was a joy declar'd
As into thaudience I stared
And heard an awkward pause:
A shuffling, a sniff, a loud cough,
A voice whispering: Im off!
Where was the thundrous applause?

Silence, like the space beyond Mars,

As deathly as a funeral vase
Falling into a childs grave.
The silence of a bowling ball
Smotherd in Vaseline and Lysol.
The silence of a gravity wave.
When a joke dies youll hear no cry.
I felt helpless as I stood by
And watched it fall into the mire,
Crucified like the Son of God;
But He, in the words of Ken Dodd,
Never played the Glasgow Empire.