The Plot Poem by David Lewis Paget

My class were all slow payers,
And they weren't the best of stayers
When they came along to evening classes
Straight from keeping shop,
So I'd try to entertain them
Though I knew I'd rather brain them,
All I wanted was some input
When their heads began to drop.

'Come on guys and girls, get with it, '
I would clap my hands, 'let's live it! '
'Give me three basic ingredients
You need to build a plot! '
'A beginning, ' said one joker,
'...and an end....' - (I thought I'd choke her!)
But I couldn't get a 'middle' from them,
That was all they'd got!

'You told me you were writers
That you burn the midnight light as
Other people lie there sleeping
While you wield your mighty pens.
You've got 'character' and 'colour'
As you like to tell each other,
But without a plot you haven't got
A story for your friends.'

'All you've given me - Moon Bayers,
And a host of Vampire Slayers
And some Super Hero wielding powers
Not you, nor I have got,
And a princess who's a virgin
With some hanger on, an urchin,
Come on folks! - there's not a virgin
Over fifteen worth a drop! '

'What we need are real people,
Keep it real and keep it simple
From the hair down to the dimple
(That you shouldn't know she's got!)
Use the guy who drives the tanker,
Or the fat and balding Banker
Who's been betting on the Gee Gee's
And is skimming off the top.'

'Or the girl there, in the city
Who's naive, but very pretty
When she meets the married businessman
Who takes her out to lunch,
Then invites her back for 'drinkies'
As he gives his pal the wink, he's
Only working on the plot he's got
To wake, just after brunch.'

I went home and had a brandy,
And I followed with a shandy,
I had always found it handy
To get drunk, right after class,
For this lot would do my head in
Every day I lay there dreading
What I'd teach them about storylines...
I drained another glass!

Then I heard a weird commotion
Like some fool had got the notion
To break in on my devotion while
I sipped my brandy there,
Then he hit me, knocked me silly
When I woke, I noticed Billy
And his dopey girlfriend Philly,
They had tied me to my chair.

They were not the best of students,
He wrote thrillers, she wrote rude ones,
But they didn't have a plot between them,
Much to my despair,
I had teased and hinted, needled,
And at times I even wheedled,
But their minds were blank of any plot
You'd even want to share.

'We're going to keep you tied until
You open up, inside, and fill us
In on where you keep the plots
For every single scene,
You must keep them in a box...
Here Philly, better check his socks,
While I go up and check his jocks,
He's sneaky, watch him 'cos he's mean! '

'You like to think you're writers, '
I had snorted, 'God Almight-us!
Here's a plot as good and tight as
Any plot - but here it stops!
You're the robber, I'm the Baron,
She's the Moll you hang your hat on,
But my wife, whose name is Sharon
Has just gone to call the cops! '

Billy turned, and in his fury
Overturned the writing bureau
I had bought from Madame Curie's
With its secret knobs and drawers,
And my papers from within it
Spilled on out, and in a minute
He had found my little secret,
Every plot I'd ever scored.

I resigned from teaching writers
Claimed amnesia, which despite us
Has persisted quite as tight as
All the stories I forgot,
Billy's on the run with Philly
But I hope they don't get silly,
They will catch them in a jiffy
If they write a single plot.