Lord of Light and Mice

by Peter Wyton

Hello. Come in and take a seat. A glass of water? Cup of tea?
There were some garibaldis, but your predecessor, Midas, K.
has rendered them inedible. We like to put our aspirants
at ease in any way we can. Let’s run through your particulars:
Apollo, Lord of Light and Mice. Address: Olympia. Post-code?
Well, never mind, we’ll dig it out. You’ve had the Job Spec, so you know
the kind of chap we’re looking for. Our crime statistics nowadays
are getting to be past a joke. We need to out-source, urgently,
a contract for a hero to shed light upon the rodent hordes
who ram-raid our off-licenses, who mug our old age pensioners,
despite surveillance cameras, community initiatives
and futile Home Office campaigns. Your title, to be candid, clinched
your short-listing for most of us. Your CV seemed commendable,
its stance on zero tolerance, its willingness to shock and awe.
The Sibyls, as your referees, attest your skill at shepherding,
your expertise in archery, your patronage of oracles.
Whilst none of these are attributes required in modern scenes-of-crime,
we like to know our employees have interests outside duty hours.
You’ll naturally be aware that current policy requires
a vetting process to take place, involving stringent questioning
of previous associates. Regrettably, I haven’t had
a chance to read yours thoroughly. Allow me, as we chat, to skim
through…GODS AND FISHES, WHAT’S ALL THIS? PC or not PC, young man,
that’s what recruitment’s all about in this millennium. We don’t
take people on who ravish nymphs named Daphne, or who take offence
at Agamemnon before Troy, resulting in the banishment
to Hades of unnumbered Greeks. We can’t discriminate against
a candidate on many grounds these days, but changing folk to cypresses
and swans is just not on, nor can we countenance your stated preference
for flaying men who play the lyre, or clouting youths with discuses.
I’ll trouble you to leave before we get Security in here!
Close call, guys. If we’d let him in, who knows what might have come of it.
Shall we get on, then, gentlemen? Next candidate. Ah, Mr. Zeus.
More poetry from Peter Wyton in The Chimaerahttp://www.the-chimaera.com/March2010/Theme/Poems/Wyton.html