Poetic Licence: The Devil You Knew
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Your support makes all the difference.The Devil is to lose his old image. A Vatican commission, which is reviewing its outdated exorcism procedures, will this week remould the Devil's cloven-footed image into a more mundane, bland definition, compatible with modern ideas of `psychological disturbance'.
The Devil packed his binbag
And clearing out his desk,
Said: "Frankly, I'm astonished.
It's almost Kafkaesque
You could say that I'm gutted
They've sacked me in effect
But that's the problem these days
You don't get the respect
The thing that makes me sickest?
This myth they're putting out,
That Evil somehow triumphs
If good men sit about.
That's rubbish, for a starter.
To propagate your gloom
You've got to know your product
- And how to work a room
Locate your market leaders
Like Ignorance and War
Present them to your client-base
But leave them wanting more.
It's often down to finding
The work for idle hands
Old-fashioned single-tasking
Which no one understands.
The hooves, and hairy hindparts
They're like a uniform.
And red. What does it tell you?
Professional - yet warm.
It reassures the punters
And lets them know I'm real.
The horns, the cloak, the pitchfork
Cry out: "Let's do a deal!"
But where's the Devil's work now?
I mean, for pity's sake.
There's only wheel clamping
And daily Ricki Lake.
The planting of leylandii,
The seating plans for planes,
My self-assessment tax forms
And running British trains.
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