Victor Billot
Victor Billot is a writer from Dunedin. He is the author of the poetry collection The Sets (Otago University Press, 2020) and writes a weekly satirical Ode for Newsroom every Sunday.
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The Bard on “Lancelot”
bodysuit stomper
Good Lord Lancelot of Uffindell,
newly appointed member of the Round Table,
drive to Despond . bay
on the right hand of Baron Luxon.
The Baron proclaims his creed
as they drive through the lush kiwi orchards,
past grateful serfs toil among the vines.
“We promised to fight”
with the villains and bums
and return the rule of law to the Queendom!”
says the baron.
“Damned right,” Sir Lancelot replies fiercely,
casually chop off the head of a passing serf.
The Baron blinks, but says nothing.
They gallop to another sleepy cavern
and the baron speaks from his great steed:
“Good tidings, humble folk!
I am now your Lord Protector.”
But look! A little hedgehog runs across the road
and Sir Lancelot gives chase, vorpal knife
swaying in the afternoon sun. Snicker snack!
“What the hell!” chuckles Lancelot,
“this reminds me of my salad days”
with the other young gentlemen of the College of Kings!”
‘Uh,’ says the Baron, with a hint of unease,
“after all, we are good Christian warriors!”
Then they drive through the misty valley.
“Wait a minute,” says the Baron, sniffing,
“this isn’t fog, it’s smoke.”
And there for them in the cozy corner
is the burning hamlet of Uffindell, well on fire,
surrounded by piles of dead townspeople,
broken furniture and dirty toilets.
‘Uh,’ says the baron,
“I thought you were going to clean up
the ruffians and vagabonds.”
“We have to work to win”, Lancelot drones
with a strange, glassy, zombie-like look.
“I personally supervised the spikings, loppings,
fire test, hot tongs, waterboarding,
rough and tumble, and the dangling of the firstborn
from the dizzying heights of the castle tower.”
The baron looks up to the tower with an ominous feeling
where the proud colors of the House of Uffindell fly:
a set of sassy lingerie claimed from an unlucky girl.
‘Old fellow,’ says the Baron, shuffling uncomfortably?
in the saddle of his mighty stallion, Titanic,
“I admire your enthusiasm and noble intention,
but now you are a Knight of the Round Table:
and you must learn to torture serfs
through the policy process.”
But too late:
Sir Lancelot has spotted a little puppy
and wanders with a battle-axe,
happily whistling.
Victor Billot felt rather moved to compose Odes for greats like Bishop Brian, The prime minister, Louise Wallace, Mike Hosking, Clarke Gayford, and Garrick Tremain.
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