A MODELLERS LAMENT
By Roger K. Todd
Last year, when the summer was hot,
and the sun it always did shine.
I went to visit an aircraft show,
in a field at Stockton-On-Tyne.
Among the many exhibits on show
was a model exceedingly fine.
It was constructed entirely from vegetables,
and its 'fuz was a bottle of wine.
Now standing nearby was a chap looking grim.
So I said "Is this thine?
Have you made this wonderful aircraft,
with its fuselage a bottle of wine."
"Aye," said he with a sigh and a grin,
"I really must take the blame,
but honest I didn't intend to make
such a strange looking edible plane."
"Well how come," said I "did you manage to build
a plane that would look far better off,
if it were on display
at the front of a green grocers shop?"
"The story's not long," he said sitting down,
and whilst picking green fly off the wing,
he launched into his story,
which was, to be said, very grim.
"A modeller I had always fancied to be,"
he said as he started his tale.
"So at last I plucked up courage
and bought a kit in a sale."
"My problems started from that moment on
'cos as I looked at the plan,
the wife got it stuck in her cook book
and produced the first balsa wood flan.
"I then made my first big mistake
for in tearing it out of her book,
I got three pages of recipes,
for vegetable salads, worst luck.
"I should have realised that something was wrong
for our grub 'came exceedingly strange.
We lived on a diet of ether,
mixed in with a dash of propane.
"The construction proceeded at a terrible pace
and consumed at least two sacks of spuds,
three caullies, twelve carrots a lettuce
and I think four planks of wood.
"The rigging caused a terrible rage,
as I fitted the pushrods inside.
For no matter how hard I chewed the ends,
the celery sticks were too wide.
"The wheels were strange, so the plan
seemed to say, as it called for beetroot in tin.
So I changed it to a tomato,
french cut and sliced very thin.
"Now it was built and the motor to fit
was all that was left to do.
But how do you fit a turnip
using pins and white PVA glue.
"I tried this, I tried that with no success
so for a bit of a sport,
I substituted a bottle of fine,
old English, vintage red port.
"Whilst pushing my plane to the field
I was amazed at the publics acclaim,
and sold three pound of potatoes to
the bloke at the end of our lane.
"Alas," said he with a tear in his eye.
"It never did leave the ground.
'cos some rotten kid ate the propeller
and the engine refused to go round."
"So here it is on display to all,
of the folly that one man can make,
of trying to build a model aircraft,
whilst his wife is baking a cake."