There was only one salmon
Left in the shop
On Christmas Eve
When to Grimsby I got
I wanted a side
But this one was whole
That said we were three
So around it could go
The price was a bargain
Only twenty quid
So we decided to grab it
Before someone else did
I kindly asked the fishmonger
To work his magic
To gut it and section it
But his craftsmanship was tragic
He cleaned out its insides
Then left it at that
Slid it’s poor carcass
Into a plaggy bag
That wasn’t even sealed
And it was sliding around
When I clocked it I was livid
And gave him a dressing down
“What have you done?!
What an abortion!
Is that your idea
Of filleted, salmon portions?
It’s as long as I’m tall
In one massive piece
I’d envisioned beautiful steaks
And two sides at least
But that cock up looks like
You’ve both had a fight
And that the poor salmon
Came back to life
And fought until the end
Whilst you brandished your blade
Which must have been serrated
Judging by the mess you’ve made!
It’s got jagged edges
All torn to shreds
And by the look of those fins
You haven’t removed it’s legs
The width isn’t even
It’s triangle shaped
And it’s a metre in length
You’ve clearly made a mistake!”
Turns out he was
A Christmas temp
Not a trained fishmonger
And wanted his break
So he rushed and fled
Leaving a mess
So I had to call his manager
And flaming protest
Who was horrified
When he saw the state
Of the poor salmon
Unfit for a plate
He ordered the temp
To finish the job
And I had to direct
The silly sod
Like I know how to prep
A whopping great fish?!
But back in Crouch End
There’d have been none of this
They’re all fully qualified
To do the job
Take pride in their work
Though it costs a few bob
But the end result
Is a thing of beauty
All precise and portioned
And packaged and pretty
Not all mangled up
In a slimy bag
That it takes two people to haul
And yank and drag
But we got there in the end
By the skin of our teeth
And the unfortunate salmon
Looked more palatable at least
And they gave us a discount
Which can’t be bad
So I summoned some Christmas spirit
And forgave the poor lad
Then headed home
To see my folks
Brandishing said salmon
The poor butt of the joke
But we gave it a fitting
Send off in the end
Baked it with lemon
Til it was fit for a king
So all was not lost
And it gave us a giggle
Breaking the ice
And filling our middles
It literally was
The catch of the day
And it tasted delicious
I’m happy to say.