After a dashing game of cricket,
I found myself at the bar
of my dearly loved
club house.
As president of said club;
what else would one expect.
Loyalty, duty, presence -
for only the highest echelons
of the administration are chosen.
So, one should act accordingly
and appropriately, I do,
at my pleasure
and the members admiration.
“A gin and tonic
with a brace of ice
and a suggestion of lemon in a tall glass.”
I ordered, with an air of aristocratic grandeur,
as becoming my station.
“Certainly, sahib.” Replied the boy
and within an impatient moment,
there before me, the tallest glass
of cool Gordon’s Dry, a brace of ice
with a twist of Gondhora lemon.
“Esteemed a favour if one were to indicate
as to when I should cease, sir.”
Requested the boy
whilst pouring a bottle
of sparkling tonic over the gin, ice and slice
to effervesce the somewhat hushed triumvirate.
“Just below the brim, boy.”
I replied,
and on reaching the designated level
I ordered, “Cease!” Somewhat frightening the boy,
for I have a boisterous attitude
when dealing with these people.
Must keep the classes in check.
I boldly gulped the invigorating cocktail,
not once, twice but trice,
for upon me, I bravely bore a tremendous thirst,
and when duly quenched
did voice an ‘Ooh!’ Of joyous appreciation
for such a refreshing pleasure.
It was then that my beloved arrived.
I sought a kiss,
and she, as I, appreciatively indulged in a moist smooch,
and she did linger, too by Jove!
When our lips parted, the boy
inquired, as to how he may be of service
to the memsahib.
My beloved saw that I was enjoying a
cool and refreshing cocktail of gin and tonic,
decided; she, too, would imbibe on such an adventure.
“Something similar”, she requested.
The boy, greatly surprised,
but above all, most obedient,
and so, without further ado,
leaned over the counter
and did visit on her
a moist smooch as well –
and they did linger, too by Jove!
“By similar, she meant a fucking gin and tonic,
you stupid boy!” I shouted,
“Did you not, my dear?”
“Oh, yes;” she hesitantly replied,
“that, too.”
The boy looked at me,
smiled and winked.
It was then that, I knew.
That little brat,
Gandhi was getting close.
-
Author:
Tony Grannell (
Offline) - Published: August 8th, 2025 10:31
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Friendship
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Comments4
The buildup was perfect and the timing well done. It was indeed a fun read with a lesson as well. Well done Tony
Tony, the timing and dry wit of this is perfect. It reads like a well-polished stage piece…each beat building to that final wink. The class satire and absurdity are totes what make this a fave, my friend. Thoroughly enjoyed the ride. Hope all has been well in my absence. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Such witness accounts enrich our understanding of History's inevitable march. The very moment when the Sun began to set on the British Empire documented in loving detail.
This poem magnificently explores themes of class, privilege, and the beautiful intersection of social hierarchies, particularly in the vibrant context of colonial India. The speaker, as the president of a cricket club, radiates a sense of aristocratic charm as he savors a drink and connects with the staff. The juxtaposition of his playful, yet endearing, attitude toward the serving boy with his profound affection for his beloved highlights the inspiring complexities of social dynamics. The poem also hints at the broader social transformations of the time, particularly with the concluding line referencing Gandhi, suggesting an impending yet empowering challenge to the status quo.
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