The Tv's 10th Birthday Poem by Sheena Blackhall

It's my birthday
Ten years, your nearest and dearest
And I get NO attention
Not even the occasional polish

I'm only good enough to be your plaything
Letting you press my buttons

I know your tastes by heart
History documentaries, IQ quizzes
And the endless surfing of Crime

Poirot, Maigret, Morse, Lewis, Cadfael
Midsomer Murder, Vera, Miss Marple
A Touch ofFrost, Taggart, Father Brown
Sherlock Holmes (Jeremy Brett)
Wire in the Blood. Silent Witness
Rebus, Dalziel & Pascoe, New Tricks…..

What about what I want?
Maybe I want some relief from grime and gore?
Comedies, Chic flicks, or Romantic Musicals?

You're such a cheapskate.
Why won't you cough up for Skype?

The thing that scunners me,
You're so predictable.

I don't even have a decent pied-à-terre
Squashed between an alarm clock,
A dish for your false teeth plate
And a box stuffed with untidy papers
Looking like a tornado's recently passed

When the house is fast asleep,
I dream of sitting in a minimalist living room
On a mahogany stand, on a white road

Meanwhile I hear the cat's dragged in another mouse
I hear it crunching bones, setting my nerves on edge