"THE MAKING OF A MAYOR"

OR

"A SHREDDED HISTORY"

The gentleman in question

Wishes me to make it clear,

In case malicious gossip

Or rumours should appear,

That I tell all those assembled

Ere this poem I begin

Little Hampton is his Council Ward

NOT the ward we found him in!

Andrew Leo Dyke,

Born July of ‘fifty two,

In Welwyn Garden City

Which, to folk like me and you,

Means ‘Shredded Wheat’ for breakfast,

Indeed ‘Shredded Wheat’ each morn.

Three at a time his father ate

Nine months ‘fore he was born!

He has a sister ‘Sheila’,

Slightly older shall I say,

But the thing that one should never do –

Give a lady’s age away!

In fact where numbers are concerned

I would not break this rule,

As I can’t be sure he’s got it right

Thinking of his days at school.

School days had barely started

When young Andrew saw his chance

To have another day off

And to lead the staff a dance.

"Leave the room!" his teacher said –

And probably much more!

So Dyke kept up the leaving

Till he reached his own front door.

"Eleven plus?? – You’re joking!

Don’t waste paper and the time.

God knows where he will end up.

Could be a life of crime!"

Five G.C.S.E’s – middle score,

Except Grade two in Art.

"Those drawings on the toilet wall!

Did Dyke have any part?"

At sixteen, leaving school behind,

Now London worker in Bond Street;

The firm was ‘Wallace Heaton’

Where, to make his dreams complete,

He could say to any teachers

Who might chance to pass his way

"Oh, we sent the Queen’s ‘Box Brownie’

To the Palace yesterday!"

A brown smock in the stock room

Then looking smarter in the shop;

Assistant manager in Cardiff,

So mother’s cooking had to stop.

He took lodgings with Miss Wiggins;

Seven guineas every week.

With FULL BOARD ON A SUNDAY

He was on a winning streak!

Ah, Miss Wiggins, dear Miss Wiggins,

T’was not your cooking let you down,

Nor any charms – such as they were.

He left for Cheltenham Town.

‘Cavendish House’ – a ‘Heaton’s’ branch:

Manager if you please,

And there he had a ‘heart attack’

Which brought him to his knees!

Well! It brought him down on one knee

When this girl came through the door.

"I can sell you films and cameras;

I can give you so much more.

I will bring you fame and fortune.

Well, I’ll do my best for fame.

Just say that we’ll be married.

By the way – what IS your name?"

Said she "My name is Wendy

And ‘Yes’ – I’ll marry you.

We’ll honeymoon in Banbury;

Not one day off – take two."

Thus it was they moved to Bath

When ‘Heatons’ were no more

For now the name was "Dixons"

That blazed forth above the door.

From Bath they moved to Portsmouth

Where both their sons were born.

Andrew’s dad to Andrew said "It’s

‘Shredded Wheat’ for you each morn."

Then Wendy said – as well she might –

"It’s very plain to me

That before we raise a football team

There’s no more eating three!"

He had a spell in ‘Tescos’

But that didn’t last so long

And M.I.5. aren’t telling

Just what it was went wrong.

Then he got a job in Liverpool,

Without the chance to skip,

‘Cause ‘Intercity Cameras’

Kept a watch on every ship!

How many times he’s changed his jobs

And changed his homes as well.

If I gave you all those details

We’d be here for quite a spell!

He arrived at last in Stratford

Where, as Evesham folk would say,

"It isn’t such a bad place

To go somewhere for a day."

So, here he is in Evesham.

As its Mayor will he be slow?

I mean – it took him half a life time

To find the best place he could go!

‘That Camera Place’ in Bridge Street;

If you need him find him there.

He tells me there are two more –

But he didn’t tell me where.

Now why is that I wonder?

Do you think that he just might

Climb aboard that narrow boat of his

And quietly vanish in the night?

Disguised with pipe and muffler

He could go where e’er he choose.

He need never step ashore for days.

It’s his boast it has two ‘loos’.

Would he ever need to do that?

Has the wanderlust all gone?

When the wild geese start to migrate

Will he join them and move on?

I think not and in thinking

I have hopes that I’m correct.

He said the Council cooked his goose

When they made him Mayor elect.

Be assured that he will do his best,

That he’ll work for all concerned.

The fires of public service

Have seen his last bridge burned.

He has his wife and family

And hobbies quite a few;

A business that is flourishing.

No scene, as yet, to view

Of a rocking chair and slippers

Though perhaps there could be more

Like tiny feet, their pitter pat

As they run in through his door.

Will he say to sons "If granddad

And a grannie you would see,

‘Shredded Wheat’s’ a great tradition,

But be sure that you EAT THREE!"

"EPILOGUE"

A final thought I offer now.

Ah me! What’s in a name?

Evesham and the Netherlands.

What chance lies here for fame?

A little boy saved Holland,

(What a memory you have, Mike!)

Yes, he saved his land from flooding

With his finger – IN THE DYKE!!

M.J.E

May 2004

Written at the request of, and duly approved by, one Andrew Leo Dyke for his election as Mayor of Evesham.

Skip to Mayormaking 9/5/2005 - Click Here

Home