Battle of The Hoovers

The hero of this story is Henry by name,

He’s  a chap of some distinction and perhaps deserving fame.

A fellow of undoubted charm and amiable demeanour,

This Henry  was a hoover - a small red vacuum cleaner.

Now Henrys are the workhorses of every builder’s van,

The absolute epitome of the British working man.

Steady and reliable you’re expecting nothing less,

Ready, willing, able to sort out any mess.

However Henry had a rival, also of some renown,

It was Dyson led the hoovers from the posher end of town.

The Dysons were a classy bunch, a pleasure to behold,

With smart vortex technology, decked out in grey and gold.

The Henrys and the Dysons, as we will now discover,

Really don’t get on at all. In fact, can’t stand each other.

Henry’s don’t like the Dyson posh boys, with all their airs and graces.

While Dysons’ think the Henrys come from all the rougher places.

Well lets not make sweeping judgements, but one thing we know thats true is, 

The Henrys come from Screwfix  and the Dysons from John Lewis.

Now none of this should matter if the two sides kept apart,

It was when they got together that things would sometimes start.

The trouble was that neither side was prepared to be the loser,

The  “Sucker’s Arms” may be lacking in charms, but was both sides favourite boozer.

It wasn’t just the  ambience  that was the main attraction,

The pub was where the girls hung out, so a chance of sexual action.

And despite the Dysons’  snootiness, and posh end of town pretensions,

The female  hearts would flutter as they enjoyed  Dyson’s attentions.

Cos Dysons they were masters of hooveresque seduction.

Dressed up proud in grey and gold, a reputation for great suction.

They certainly had all the things  that made the girls all  drool,

Like  the shine on their attachments -  length of their crevice tool.

The Henrys were no slouches either - full of cheeky chappie chat,

There were always gonna be some girls who liked a bit of that.

Now competing gangs of hoovers, all keen to try their luck

Will inevitably lead to trouble and potentially a ruck.

And tension soon  boiled over, about who it was that owned the place.

The Henrys and the Dysons were soon squared up face to face.

Dyson he stepped forward, pumped up with posh boy’s pride,

“Come on then Henry Hoover. We’ll settle this outside!”

Outside the 2 sides mustered ready for a bundle,

Both sides looking for a scrap. There was going to be a rumble.

The fight it started slowly  as these things often do,

Dyson promised Henry  he would beat him black and blue.

Henry simply stood his ground assured and self reliant.

“Come on then Posh Boy” was his reply, pugnacious and defiant.

“Do you think you’re going to have us” Dyson loudly scoffed.

A bit of a push,  and then a shove, and the whole just kicked off.

The Dysons advanced in a line and at once began the battle,

The fury of their onslaught made the Henrys’ casings rattle.

The Dysons with their Rolla-Balls were all full of neat manoeuvres,

Confident it wouldn’t take  long to see off the Henry Hoovers.

Now a Henry Hoover it must be said Is rather squat and fat.

Perhaps not the  ideal  fighting shape to get into a scrap.

But Henrys may be small and  squat, but they have the hearts of British lions.

And every  Henry stood their ground and fought back with defiance.

The battle raged for quite some time as the warring vacuums  clattered,

Charge was met by counter charge, hoses stretched and  bodies battered.

Handles they got broken, switches  they got  trashed, 

Filters ripped and wheels came off. Casings they got smashed.

Henry in the thick of it fought as hard as he was able,

As a Dyson tried to throttle him with his own electric cable.

Eventually the battle lulled. The two sides pulled apart.

Regrouped and then advanced again, their battle to restart.

But then Henry remembered his namesake, who’d led victories before.

Not some fable or myth, it was Henry the Fifth at the Battle of Agincourt!

He shouted just step back lads, and then when I say go,

Turn on all your settings from suck to maximum blow.

The Henrys stepped back as ordered, trigger fingers felt the itch,

And then on Henrys signal they all just flicked the switch.

A stream of crap now filled the sky from everywhere the Henry’s had been

The detritus from a working life, stuff the Dysons had never seen

It was ……

All manner now of filth and grime, from the Henry’s hard work and overtime.

Ripped Up Tissues -  Bottle Tops -   Breakfast Toast Crumbs  - Coco-Pops

Flaked Off Paint and Chocolate Wrappers  -  Mashed Up Crumbs From Stale Cream Crackers

Boot Scrapings -  Mud and Leaves and Twigs.    Sawdust From The Guinea Pigs

Old Discarded Nicotine Patches -  Till Receipts and Old Spent Matches. 

The Remnants Of A Burst Balloon - Bogies Once Flicked Across The Room

Old Sweet Papers -  Toddlers Socks - Toenail Clippings -  Lego Blocks

Spillage From Some Cat’s Litter Tray -   The  Dried-Up Remains Of A Takeaway

Hair Removed From A Blocked Plughole - The Festering Remains Of A Sausage Roll

Buttons Lost From Someone’s Jacket - Cigarette Butts  and Rizla Packets

Orange Peel and Bacon Rind - A Tooth The Fairy Didn’t Find

End Of A Bootlace Snapped In Two -  Cobwebs  - Spiders - Mouse’s Poo.

All of this and so much more. Stuff they’d never seen before.

The garbage from a working day  now in the air heading the Dyson’s Way.

This graceful arc of rubbish  turned the sky quite black,

Landed neatly on the Dysons  and covered them in crap.

Now the one thing  a Dyson hates the most  although it doesn’t hurt,

Ironically for a hoover is close proximity to dirt.

Head to toe in household muck the Dysons looked a sorry sight, 

Their resolve now quickly faltered , lost their stomach for the fight.

Caked as they were in rubbish, egos bruised and bodies  battered,

The Henrys cheered  and jeered them as  the Dysons quickly scattered.

The Dysons slunk away in shame, their humiliation was complete,

Bits of rubbish fell from them  as they stumbled down the street.

The  Henrys looked around them - it was clear who’d won the day,

The Suckers Arms was theirs once more and was gonna stay that way!

And the victory is always sweeter when the posh boys are the losers,

The fighting done - Henrys number one -  in the Battle of the Hoovers.