Me: (Handing out flyers on Boutport Street):
Please come along and see my show
You: (Looking at the flyer in disbelief):
Is it going to be all in emoji though?
Me: (Perhaps a little unhelpfully):
You: (In the circs quite reasonably):
So, what’s it about?
Me: (in a friendly and not at all aggressive tone,
that makes you think that when all’s said and done
I might just be alright):
Come and find out.
You: (speaking to your friends and/or family):
Well he’s not going to sell many tickets, is he?
Your friends and/or family: (Gleefully):
You: (Slightly annoyed at the direction this is taking)
That actually wasn’t the point I was making
Me: (Butting in quite rudely, but let’s be honest,
to put it crudely I want the best,
and you, your friends, your family, and the rest
look like the audience of my dreams):
It’s UPSTAIRS AT THE QUEENS
You: (Showing your usual discretion and taste,
your wicked sense of humour, your passion and grace,
sense of adventure, flashing eyes and modesty,
and perhaps above all, your immunity to flattery):
Let’s go see:
All: (in one voice, cheesy but laced with irony) “The Uses of Poetry”