Topic Summaries

I run just one ovmy daddy’s shops

from 9 O’clock to 9 O’clock

and he vunt me not to hav a break

but ven nobody in, I do di lock –

cos up di stairs is my newly bride

vee share in chapatti

vee share in di chutney

after vee hav made luv

like vee rowing through Putney –

ven I return vid my pinnie untied

di shoppers always point and cry:

hey Singh, ver yoo bin?

yor lemons are limes

yor bananas are plantain,

dis dirty little floor need a little bit of mop

in di worst Indian shop

on di whole Indian road –

abovemy head high heel tap di ground

as my vife on di web is playing wid di mouse

ven she netting two cat on her Sikh lover site

she book dem for di meat at di cheese ov her price –

my bride

she effing at my mum

in all di colours of Punjabi

den stumble like a drunk

making fun at my daddy

my bride

tiny eyes ov a gun and di tummy ov a teddy

my bride

she hav a red crew cut

and she wear a Tartan sari

a donkey jacket and some pumps

on di squeak ov di girls dat are pinching all my sweeties

ven I return from di tickleov my bride

di shoppers always point and cry:

hey Singh, ver yoo bin? di milk is out ov date

and di bread is alvays stale,

the tings yoo hav on offer yoo hav never got in stock

in di worst Indian shop

on di whole Indian road –

late in di midnight hour

ven yoo shoppers are wrap up quiet

ven di precinct is concrete-cool

vee cum down whispering stairs

and sit on my silver stool,

from behind di chocolate bars

vee stare past di half-price window signs

at di beaches ov di UK in di brightey moon –

from di stool each night she say,

how much do yoo charge for dat moon baby?

from di stool each night I say,

is half di cost ov yoo baby,

from di stool each night she say,

how much does dat come to baby?

from di stool each night I say,

is priceless baby –