"The Bank" by Sue Copyright July 2009

Mr Bloggs walked into the bank,
the cashier's face looked really blank ;
" I want to withdraw some money " , he said,
"you know, dosh, spondulicks,bread".

Her chubby face brightened then,
"You can't do that since God knows when -
its all done by machine these days,
none of those old-fashioned ways" .

She gave him a shiny plastic card,
explained that to use it wasn't hard;
he put it in the cashpoint's slot,
but not a single note was got.

So once again he slowly queued,
and to the teller was rather rude -
" So what are you being paid for,
if we get no service any more?"

She stared at him a second time,
tuts were heard along the line;
the computers all did gaily ping,
she said "numbers are really not my thing".

Cameras winked above the door,
robots whizzed across the floor;
coloured lights all were blinking
alas,she wasn't used to thinking.

Finally Mr Bloggs' patience gave,
he signalled her a final wave,
and thought " it really isn't funny
when a bank runs out of money".

So he sat down in the road,
and a sheet of paper clearly showed,
"please give to the poor" it read,
and in an hour he'd earned his daily bread.