great moments in bathos
Morning at the Chateau De Healy.
Ireland's greatest living poet staggers into the kitchen after a hard night eating Easter gugs.
His Dad is sitting disconsolately at the kitchen table.
The noble Heelers switches on the kettle.
"Don't bother," says the Dad."It's not working."
"It looks like it's working to me," sez I.
"It starts to boil and then it stops before the water is really hot," quoth Father.
I stare at the kettle.
The kettle returns my stare as if butter wouldn't melt in its mouth.
Boiling sounds are coming from it.
Soon it appears to my expert gaze to be bubbling merrily.
"Are you sure it's not working?" sez I to the Dad.
"Yes, you can see there's no steam coming out of the spout," answers he.
The noble Heelers places his hand over the spout.
His next words are: "Focquing hell, aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, for focque's sake, I can't believe I focquing did that."
I staggered around the kitchen nursing my burnt hand.
"I think it really is boiling Dad," I said after a few minutes.
Considering the circumstances, gentle traveller of the internet, and vulgarisms notwithstanding, I think you will agree that my words and actions showed an admirable level of decorum and restraint.