From the sublime to the ridiculous. Same photographer and same poet as the pair above
Percy the Clamper
Now Percy was a clamper
By Eastbourne's sunny bay
Who loved to put a damper
On every driver's day.
Tormenting folks for wages,
His van used to conceal
Those metal yellow cages
Designed to stop each wheel.
The trouble was with Percy
He wasn't prone to flinch,
No motorist got mercy,
He never gave an inch.
In Eastbourne's seaside region
Immune to any curse
His random strikes were legion,
He'd even clamped a hearse.
He ate lunch in a diner
On one more day of fines
Then spied a Morris Minor
Parked on two yellow lines.
Alert as some great eagle
He swooped to clamp the car,
Although his act was legal
This time he'd gone too far.
You see, the empty Morris
Belonged to Doris Clough;
You didn't mess with Doris,
A pensioner, but tough.
She'd only parked there briefly,
The chemist's AJ Miles
Supplied old Doris chiefly
With treatment for her piles.
When she emerged to witness
A clamp about to lock
She gained new strength and fitness -
Red mist turned back the clock.
The newly issued ticket
She tore it up and swore,
She told him where to stick it
Then lectured him on war.
Yelled Doris 'I once battled
Through Hitler's dreaded Blitz!'
While Percy, looking rattled
Knew he'd got on her tits.
That wooden prop for hobblers,
Her walking stick she aimed,
It smashed him in the cobblers
Then Percy fell down maimed.
She drove off and a small crowd
Gave Doris their applause,
She waved back feeling all proud
While Percy clutched his balls.
He left the job defeated,
The clamping stopped, praise be!
Now drivers don't get heated
And Eastbourne prom is free.