Renowned artist, Miss Beatitude Bushelhackle, returned to South Africa,
where, keen to expand her portfolio, she set up an easel on the beach,
and painted a handsome black male model.
Wearing nought but a girdle, he was embarrassingly grateful for a few pence,
while the faithful tutted disapprovingly as they thronged to church.
In between brush strokes, Beatitude stroked a cat called Mastophio,
who had lately returned to her side, while a green-speckled bird
called Percy looked on from his perch.
He spread his wings and squawked, ‘What a bunch of idiots!’
But alas, the feline was not impressed by parrots.
Then an old flame sidled up, asking, ‘Why did you leave me for rainy England?’
But Beatitude looked at him defiantly, ‘I love a black, slinky beauty,
who slivers through leafy glades like a panther.’
‘I saw her in a television documentary, about feral cats living in London’s many parks.
‘Though a peaceful pet, she’ll snarl if she sees me with other furry creatures, like a mouse or squirrel.
But at dawn’s early light will rise with me to hear a toot from an early-rising owl.’
Then the heartbroken chap asked, ‘Did you ride to hounds, as the English do,
with people called Buddly Balderdash and Willington-Wop?
‘I’ve read about those characters, in a novel by that satirist of the English upper class, PG Wodehouse.
My grandfather fought those pompous pontificators at the battle of Spion Kop,
where the Boers gave them a bloody nose.
‘Fascinating,’ Beatitude said, ‘No, I joined an animal protection society, Paws Are Us.
After protesting at a fox hunt, I pushed Wiltshire’s chief police inspector so hard, he fell on his ass.
‘Back here, in my homeland of South Africa, I teamed up with Jimmy Flinns,
a young, autistic fella, who loves me and little Mastophio.
‘She’s a plucky little soul, who braved great danger to join me here.
Not having a passport, she determined to join me here, travelling by hiding aboard
a package-holiday plane as ‘on-board baggage’, landing on the island of Tenerife.
‘There the cute cat boarded a fishing smack, enlisting as the vessel’s ratcatcher,
arriving in Morrocco’s port of Rabat.
Travelling south, in the train of an elephant hunting expedition, she was adopted as a good-luck pet.
Fortunately, the bearers were Moroccan, whose citizens worshipped the creature feline.
But the ‘cuddly little thing’ left the seekers of tusk wondering what had happened to their rifle bolts,
the absence of which left their weapons useless.
This heroic act met with adoration from a tribe that worshipped the creatures elephantine,
who chanted, ‘She’s a lovely elephant-saving, little thief’.
As fate would have it, US pop sensation ‘Marge’ Mildenna,
who’s reputed to own a million shoes and fur-lined coats,
was touring the country, and shrieked with delight when she espied Mastophio.
Marge, keen to improve her image, since she sang about being a ‘virgin’,
was there to open a safari park for children escaping the war-torn Congo.
‘Oh, you are a sweet little thing,’ shrieked the singing star.
Cuddling her, Marge blabbed, ‘I’ll dance with you in my next music video, which will be rather naughty.’
Her manager laughed, ‘So what else is new?’
So, the diva devoted her energies to spreading goodwill messages about persecuted wildlife.
Seeking positive publicity, she let that young fella Jimmy join her, who declared,
‘I’ve never been kissed, so, would you oblige me, pretty Miss?’
Madge thought, ‘Not on your life!’ at first, then considered, ‘That would be good for my image,
kissing a man with issues.’
But Beatitude grabbed the lad and they ran into the verdant bush.
She cried, ‘Oh, Jimmy! You are innocent, please beware that devilish diva!’ and burst into tears.
So Jimmy offered her a handful of tissues.
‘Thank you,’ she sobbed, ‘now, to my great surprise, I’ve found love here with you,
the best of innocent guys.’
But a green-speckled bird called Percy looked on from his perch, squawking ‘Oh, get on with it!’
Devout citizens left their church, halfway through the Gospel, to watch this romantic spectacle,
clapping their Bibles, chanting ‘You can kiss her now!’
While the young black man, from the first stanza, piped up ‘Do you need a model?’
‘Go away!’ Jimmy shouted, I can strip off for her now, but can I borrow your girdle.’
After their lips parted, Beatitude looked embarrassingly at Mastophio,
but instead of emitting a jealous snarl, the little one simply uttered a plaintive ‘Miaow’.
