FLYMAN

You know, I was thinking the other day wouldn’t it be
great to be a fly on the wall and listen in to someone’s
conversation, who did you wrong. You would need a
Genie but knowing my luck it would be a Genie who
wasn’t very good at listening.

I would say ‘I’d like to be a fly on the wall.’ And
before I could say which wall, I would be in some toilet
as a fly in a garage and some weekend reveller would be
violently sick just after his diarrhoea. Well being new to
this fly business I would feel like throwing up, while all
the other flies would think that all their Christmases had
come at once. The place would be buzzing in a bad way
and some smart Alec of a fly would say. ‘What’s up with
him there’s a feast down there and he’s no budging.’

I would ask this fly, we will call him Freddy. ‘Have
you never heard of a fly on the wall.’ He would answer.
‘I’ve heard of it but you're taking the biscuit.’ Then he
would really annoy me, he would look me in the eye and
say. ‘I think we’ll call you Wally that would suit you.’
I would feel like punching him at this point but you
know flies can’t punch. If you put one in a paper bag it
wouldn’t be able to punch it’s way out. Just like my
mate George and he’s not even a fly.

Anyway back to being on the wall. If the genie isn't
very good at listening. maybe I would be stuck to this
wall for the rest of my fly life and what about the other
two wishes, they always come in three’s. What if there’s
cutbacks and you only get two? You’ve told him two
basic wishes because you don't want to be seen as being
to greedy, then he tells you about the cutbacks. You
where saving the last one as the biggie. The one that
would see you in luxury for the rest of your life. Then he
drops the bombshell. ‘Sorry, dear boy, only two wishes
per person from now on. We’re living in hard times and
there has to be cutbacks.’

‘Some genie you are.’ I would yell at him. ‘I had
plans and now you’ve spoilt them.’ And it isn't any
consolation when he tells you he doesn’t make the rules.
You just tell him he hasn’t made your dreams come true.
‘You’re a disgrace to Genies.’ You add while he’s
mumbling. ‘I hate this job. Always somebody
complaining. If the foot was on the other shoe it would
be different. How would you like to be in my shoes?’
And I would look at his shoes, the way that they turned
up at the toes and answer. ‘Who in there right mind
would wear shoes like that? They must be so
uncomfortable.’ And on and on it would go . . .

 

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