This
was written sometime in 1990 or 91 when I was working as an Electrician’s Mate
at St James’ Palace and Buckingham Palace.
I
was working with a trained electrician called Brian Wombell (he had heard all jokes!). He and I were working in
the void above the ceiling in one of the main reception rooms in Buckingham
Palace; It was a domed ceiling and had a walkway known as ‘London Bridge’ for access
across the dome, this was built when the Palace was built thousands of years ago.
We were installing a cable known as a Pyro, a copper encased wire that
withstood fire, hence the name. This had to be screwed to the ‘bridge’ and was
part of the fire alarm and lighting system. The domed ceiling was inches
beneath our feet, we were warned not to drop anything or let any body parts stray off the bridge…..
“Does
God wear trainers?
Only,
I have to ask
Up
there can you see?
At
the feet of the Blessed Mary
A
HiTec or Reebok trainer
Protruding,
as though in 3D.”
The
Queen looked up, pointed and posed
The
above vexed question
To
an aide quite thoughtfully.
“Does
God wear trainers?”
Asked
the Queen of an aide
This
time more earnestly
“Not
that I am aware M'arm” said he,
“Then
that foot poking through there
That
bodily extremity
Must,
therefore be, an alien entity.”
Said
she,
“Well”
said he,
“I will make the most urgent of enquiry”
Off
dashed the aide hurriedly
The
foot remained firmly lodged through Art
With
a capital A, most doggedly
An
Electrician working above the painted domed gallery
Was
screwing conduit to rafters
Totally
unaware of anything, quite rashly,
For
he was just doing his job quite blissfully.
“Does
God wear trainers?”
The
question asked had lodged positively
In
the now swirling grey matter,
Between
the aides ears
He
stopped and turned elevating his eyes
To
where the size eight trainer did rest
“My
Lord, My Stars, My Heaven, I do attest
And
forswear as to why in Heaven
That
damned foot does there rest!”
“Does
God wear trainers?”
The
question had not yet been answered
For
there the foot poked through Art
Like
some modernistic sore thumb
Beneath
the Virgin Mary’s feet and blessed incarnality,
Aides gathered and their opinion was lent,
Prince
Andrew and Fergie came,
looked and then went
Shaking
their heads in mute bewildered judgement
However,
above all this, poor Brian from that hole
His
trainered foot could not rend
Down
to the imbroglio below
The
Electrician’s mate the beleaguered
Brian
did send,
With
a message from the hell in heaven above,
To
increasing Hell below
“Tell
them,” said he “ that I did not know,
of
the fragility of this ceiling
and
of my foot’s imperfect placement,
But
say nothing of my hammer’s rapid
descent.”
The
question remained to those who had gathered below,
“Does
God wear trainers?”
Prince
Charles was summoned and to the vexed question
His
valuable opinion was lent,
“Good
God!” said he passionately
“What
a monstrosity, what carbuncular protusion
is
that pray, beneath the feet of the Blessed Mary?”
“This
modern intrusion of unwelcome bent
Must
with all haste be removed with a skilled artistic, expungement!”
“Does
God wear trainers?”
The
question first asked,
the
one the Queen had to an aide posed primarily,
Was
answered by herself
“Well
I quite like it, “ said she,
“it
adds a touch of modernity,
To
something which is rather quite dour,
compositionally.”
To
this end so there Brian remains
He
is not, you must understand suffering,
For
he is bathed regularly,
Nor
does he suffer, nutritionally,
For
he has all he can drink and eat,
as
he is now a 3D,
Artistic
addition to the Dome of The Blessed Mary.
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