{"id":5499,"date":"2014-09-17T08:00:37","date_gmt":"2014-09-17T08:00:37","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.cvm.org.uk\/blog\/?p=5499"},"modified":"2014-09-12T12:04:11","modified_gmt":"2014-09-12T12:04:11","slug":"code-ode-prat-and-pride-part-1","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.cvm.org.uk\/blog\/friends-of-cvm\/code-ode-prat-and-pride-part-1\/","title":{"rendered":"Code Ode: Prat and Pride, Part 1"},"content":{"rendered":"

Prat<\/strong><\/h1>\n

Read Luke Ch 15, v 11-23<\/strong><\/p>\n

(Recite this, out loud, walking along, to the rhythm of your footsteps. Best by<\/em>\u00a0far in a Ray Winstone \/ Bob Hoskins accent. If you are reading this on your<\/em>\u00a0phone, turn it on its side).<\/em><\/p>\n

My mate Josh down the pub,
\nGot a story about this bloke;
\nHe\u2019s minted. Now then,
\nHe\u2019s got this, fam\u2019ly business.
\nHe could give them anything ,
\nHe never stinted–on them.
\nGot blokes , working for him,
\nBespoke, load a\u2019 stuff, and so
\nHe\u2019s got these two sons. The oldest,
\nA straight-down-the-line
\nSort a\u2019 bloke. Not rough, yer know?
\nThe other – was a bit of a lad, a bit mad.
\nCould be a prat, I\u2019m told,
\nBad news and how!
\nSaw what the old man was worth,
\nSaid \u201cI want some a\u2019 that, pot a\u2019 gold,
\nAn\u2019 I want it now!\u201d<\/p>\n

So he kicks off \u2013 like chronic.
\nFather has to give in–to him.
\nPut hisself and the business on the line.
\nHe risked everythin\u2019–for him.
\nPacked in, pulled out, retired.
\nSplit the lot between the two–of them.
\nSoon as the youngest got his share,
\nHe decided what to do–right then.
\nCashed in his bit.
\nLoads of the ready was what
\nAt his insistence, he got.
\nRight up the young prat\u2019s street.
\nAll them breathin\u2019 down his neck \u2013
\nWanted freedom, distance–a lot.
\nHe voted \u2013 with his feet.<\/p>\n

Goes abroad to some hellhole,
\nWhere he was into
\nEverything, real deep.
\n\u2018Everything\u2019, I mean you could buy
\nAnything, dead cheap.
\nTalk about a walk on the wild side,
\nMore a marathon run–then some.
\nEnjoyed hisself to death,
\nLaid everything in sight.
\nSure, he was havin\u2019 some–great fun.
\n\u201cI get tarts for free, (and high class pros,
\nI pay for, as well.)\u201d
\nIf you asked him. \u201cAny regrets?\u201d \u201cRegrets!
\nOn what score? Like hell!\u201d<\/p>\n

Then the money ran out,
\nHe got no clout, no more.
\nS\u2019no use to shout.
\nHe found out, for sure,
\nWithout a doubt
\nWhat a bunch of louts
\nHis friends might
\nReally be. \u2013 They headed out
\nOf sight, off site.
\nThen the economy goes down the drain.
\nIt goes well, insane.
\nThere\u2019s no welfare state, there mate.
\nSo earning a living\u2019s
\nOne hell, of a game.
\nSome of the things he did! \u2013
\nLowest of the low, he was–gettin\u2019.
\nSometimes he could have ate
\nThe leavings off folk\u2019s plates,
\nBut he couldn\u2019t, cus they wouldn\u2019t–let \u2018im.<\/p>\n

Then (Josh said),
\nA light bulb went on \u2013 flash!
\nIn the plonker\u2019s little head.
\n\u201cI\u2019ll put an end to muppetry.
\nI\u2019m bonkers, must be said.
\nIn this puke hole, I\u2019m well up-a-tree.
\nHere I am \u2013 me,
\nMy father\u2019s son, I\u2019m starving
\nAnd even blokes what work for him,
\nAren\u2019t short of grub,
\nNot even one, they\u2019re larfing.\u201d
\nAlthough it took a while
\nThe big idea hits him.
\nGenius! \u2013 With style.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll go back home!\u201d<\/p>\n

But there\u2019s more to it than that.
\nHe saw for, the first time in his life,
\nAnd since he set out on the roam,
\nHe was \u2013 a prat.<\/p>\n

He had to confess.
\nHe\u2019d been a right bar steward, no less.
\n\u201cI\u2019ve stuck two fingers up to Dad.
\nI must\u2019ve driven him up the wall.
\nAnd if there is a God,
\nWhere He\u2019s concerned
\nI\u2019ve stuck two fingers up, an\u2019 all.
\nI\u2019m not fit to be my father\u2019s son,
\nNo more, I know the score.
\nThe time for grovelling has come.
\nIt\u2019s all your fit for chum.\u201d
\nSo, sty-fell-ing a sob,
\nHe decides to say \u201cI\u2019m sorry.
\nI\u2019m not fit to be your son no more.
\nJust gizza job.
\nAny job, \u2018cause basically I\u2019m poor.\u201d<\/p>\n

So he goes home.<\/p>\n

Now the old man\u2019s front drive\u2019s
\nThe length of a small runway.
\nWhen father sees him, at the gate,
\nWell, there\u2019s only one way.
\nWhen he sees him comin\u2019
\nThe old man sets off runnin\u2019.
\nThe old man–there\u2019s no way he\u2019s fit.
\nAnd running, rich old guys avoid
\nIf they can–get away with it.
\nThe son \u2013 he starts in.
\n\u201cDad I\u2019m not fit to be \u2013 \u2018\u201d
\nThe old man interrupts him.
\nHe starts up \u2013 and butts in.
\n\u201cCome on don\u2019t be a mug.
\nCome on don\u2019t make me laugh.\u201d
\nHe gives him the old bear-hug
\nAnd calls in his chief of staff.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet him kitted out
\nIn the Armani and the Gucci.
\nCome on now!
\nThe best that we have got.
\nThis here is my son now.
\nHe\u2019s got to look the part
\nHe\u2019s got to have the gear.
\nWe lost him now we\u2018ve found him
\nWe\u2019re having the biggest party,
\nYou lot have seen all year.\u201d<\/p>\n

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