Tuesday, 22 February 2011

The Fresh Prints of Bailiff-Care

Now this is the story all about how
My life got flipped, turned upside down
And I'd like to take a minute just sit right there
I'll tell you how I came to know of Bailiffs as people that care

In Devon then the Isle of Wight born and raised
Although that's irrelevant to the story of the last few days
Chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool
Words that don't describe how I've been at all
Since a Bailiff (twas my understanding that they're up to no good)
Started making trouble in my neighbourhood
He'd been once before and my progeny got scared
He said a parking ticket we thought we'd paid still remained unrepaired

I'd paid 40 quid before and thought the matter was over
But Southwark Council (unbeknownst to us) had asked the courts to recover
A further 98 plus Bailiff's costs was the cause for his call
So we paid a cheque then cancelled it and hoped that that would be all

Well, 3 months passed and we'd forgotten it, hence we didn't expect
The bailiff to come around again with more to collect
I answered on the intercom and called him a twat
He went away, but not for good, we were certain of that

So, I spent Friday writing letters to work out this mess
I'm middle class, my nerves were wracked, I'm not used to this stress
I copied in the Obudsman, and I spoke to the rozzas
Avoiding further door knockers would help preserve my trousers

So, Saturday, the Bailiff knocked about 7 or 8
I yelled through the intercom, 'Yo, dickhead, smell ya later'
Then he told me that he'd clamped our car, and was towing it away
Not exactly what we'd had in mind for our childrens' Saturday

Riled, I rang the feds and asked them ‘what should be our plan?'
They said we'd have to let him go, it was out of their hands
I thanked them, insincerely, for their generous assistance
Wisely, said I'd kill him, then hung up, a regrettable insistence

I begged and pleaded with the Bailiff, my rage still intense
I showed him how we’d paid the bill, and the series of events
He showed me his warrant, and I called him an arsehole
Asked him if he enjoyed his job, something something metatarsal

First Class, yo this is bad
I walked away, told him just to take the car
Is this what life with Bailiffs is like,
Shit, this isn’t alright

Got back to the house and imparted the bad news
Our car would be towed away, he couldn’t care for our views
To get it back we’d have to go to court or pay 700 quid
It was more than I could handle, started flipping my lid

But then something happened, something really unexpected
The doorbell rang once more, again, the Bailiff, a new mood was soon detected
He said he’d mulled it over and had heard our honest tale
That he’d remove the clamp and clear the bill, that sense would now prevail

‘Not such an arsehole, am I?’, was his query, twice repeated
Taken aback, delighted, my composure now defeated
How had this come to turn around, all grievance in the past
Assuredly, he let me know, our trouble here was passed.

Now, how does it come to happen that a Bailiff seems to care,
But a council, that we pay for, pursues us everywhere
For a trifling indiscretion, over the meter by a second
A miserable malignance most febrile and quite fecund

It's had quite a stark effect on me, this thunderous re-appraisal
I'd decided, based on what I'd learned, that Bailiffs would be arseholes
Since then I've found I deal with things, things that would have wound me up
As people trying to get around how their own things are fucked up.

No comments:

Post a Comment