7.3: Drudgery


One evening, as the Minkey struggles to persuade the hot tap to yield a little more water, it suddenly fires a scalding spurt straight at the Minkey’s face. On instinct, he dodges the jet of water, but, in so doing, knocks his precious ghetto blaster – his only possession – into the sink. Nick Drake’s voice suddenly speeds up, then slows down and then stops and there is the dreadful sound of the cassette tape unspooling inside. With a shriek, the Minkey dives to rescue the machine from the water, receives a sudden electric shock, and slumps to the sticky floor, his head in his hands. 

In the snug bar next door, with the warm conviviality of a third round of Toad’s Tipple, the Barman’s regulars have no idea of the disaster in the dismal scullery through that always closed door. But then they hear, somewhat louder than normal, a plaintiff song, today sung unaccompanied by the recorded sound of Nick Drake’s guitar. 

Drudgery 

Washing up is drudgery,
So dismal all-round
It can never finish,
’Til the last pint has been downed
Unloved washer-uppers
Can never get away
’Til last orders chimes
To the customers’ dismay 

Forgotten in the kitchen,
Forgotten when you die
A much derided minkey
Fed on bits of mouldy pie 

Life is washing glasses
While the customers guffaw
In a dank and dreary closet
With a beer-soaked sticky floor
It seems much less trouble
Just to wash another glass
’Til you realise
That you’re chavvy working class 

Safe when the Barman calls
“Time, Gents, Please!”
You unfasten your apron
And sink down to your knees.
Hanging from a fruit tree, committing suicide
Only then they’ll see that you’d long been Shanghaied.
Forgotten in the kitchen,
Forgotten when you die
A much derided minkey,
Fed on mouldy bits of pie 

Washing up is drudgery,
So dismal all-round
It can never finish,
’Til the last pint has been downed
Unloved washer-uppers
Can never get away
’Til last orders chimes
To the customers’ dismay 

Drudgery, drudgery
No one knows you but the washing up
Don’t you worry,
It will pile up, when you’re gone 

Drudgery, drudgery
May as well call it time right now
Just need to find
A sturdy bough, then you’re gone 

It slowly dawns on Bill, the field-frog, that this is the Minkey singing himself. “He’s not bad! He actually sounds like his hero Nick Drake. I’ll mention him to the entertainment correspondent of the paper tomorrow.” 

Bill used to be a sound engineer for the BBC and now works part time for the local newspaper: the Westmorland Gazette. He probably means to bring a little interest and local newspaper glamour to the glass washer’s rather dull life.