The Plastic Chair
Entrapment or, The Terryifying but Tragically True Tale Of Trevor’s Trapped Testicle
Most people have got a few plastic stacker chairs at their place. You know, the plastic ones that have the little splits in the seat. What you probably don’t realise is that when you sit on them, those splits open up, cos that’s happenin underneath ya bum and you don’t see, and when you stand up they close up again.
But they can be a bit tricky those chairs. And I’ve written this poem about a person who got into a bit of strife with a plastic stacker chair and I’ve called the poem ‘Entrapment’. And the expanded title is ‘The Terrifying But Tragically True Tale Of Trevor’s Trapped Testicle’.
Trevor’s on a mission, off to Consumer Affairs,
Trying to get a total ban on plastic stacker chairs.
He reckons that they’re dangerous, a serious threat to life.
Cos it was through a plastic chair that he got into strife.
It was at the Tamworth Festival, a concert in the park,
Trev and Ken were there with gear to last them until dark.
An esky full of coldies, Trev was without a care,
Stubbies, thongs and T-shirt, on his plastic stacker chair.
But as he stretched his legs out, his left crown jewel rolled free,
And dropped straight through the chair seat, a real catastrophe.
But Trevor remained unaware of his dire situation,
Until they gave the singer a big standing ovation.
As Trevor came up to his feet he gave a fearsome yell,
Cos tethered to his testicle, the chair came up as well.
He grabbed the chair with both hands as they crashed back to the ground,
But the errant family jewel was firmly stuck, he quickly found.
He tried to extract the enclosed nut, and then he began to curse,
Cos nothing he did seemed to work, it only made things worse.
Trev’s mate Ken was laughing, fit to go right off his brain,
Ken’s tears were from laughter but Trevor’s were from pain.
Ken produced a Stanley knife, and Trevor’s mouth went dry,
He said, “I’ll only cut the plaso chair,” but Trevor wouldn’t let him try.
Well, Ken climbed under and tried to poke things through,
It’s times like this you find out what ya mates will really do.
They pulled and poked and prodded, but all efforts were in vain,
Trevor’s nut was red and raw, and giving heaps of pain.
All this unwanted attention was no good you realise,
Trevor’s tortured testicle swelled up to twice it’s size.
Well, the word spread quickly through the park about the situation,
And people tried to get a glimpse of Trevor’s threatened castration.
Mums and Dads and kids and dogs, of every shape and age,
Trev got more attention then the singer on the stage.
Little kids were pointing, dogs were trying to have a smell,
and Trevor, trying to cover up, said, “Go to bloody hell*!”
“Poor bloke needs an icepack,” was the only good advice,
They sat Trev over his esky with his agate in the ice.
Someone called an ambulance, and they drove through the crowd,
Trev was drinking Bundy Rum and swearing very loud.
When they both stopped laughing, they carted Trev away,
To the hospital where he became the highlight of the day.
But Trevor’s near recovered, with both crown jewels in place,
Don’t offer him a plastic chair if you value your face.
But next year at the carnival, Trevor will be there,
Wearing tight undies, long trousers, on his canvas fold-out chair.