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Baseball Bat Justice


There's a whole section of Society
Which seems to take a great pride
In complicating life in general
With some  things they decide.
Just a selection of folk
That I'd  really like to meet,
Baseball bat in my hand,
In an dark corner of a street:
The one who streamlined my car
So I have to struggle to get in;
The one who sealed cucumber
In an indestructible plastic skin,
(Sealed hard plastic casing
The bane of my life
Resistant to all attempts to open
Except with a good sharp knife);
The Easy Open condiment sachet
Whose dotted line won't tear
(Then suddenly splits and
Throws the vinegar everywhere);
The inventor of the automatic
Telephone answering exchange;
People who change things
Only for the sake of change;

Just a few examples of folk
Who have sent my life crashing,
Just a sample of the many I'd like
To give a damn good thrashing.
Do designers ever use products
And services with which they meddle
Are they just determined to destroy
By  the services they peddle.
Can't you do something useful
Like sweeping the street.
You should be made to apologise
To the frustrated folk you meet.
I'm at that stage of life where
My patience is running thin,
With so many little complaints
I just don't know where to begin.
I've almost got to that age
Where I can't take much more:
If it ain't broke, don't fix it,
That's sage wisdom from yore.
Mr Self Satisfied Smug Designer
To reinforce sentiments like that
I'd like to introduce you to the end
Of my faithful, trusty baseball bat.







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