In a McClass of His Own

In a McClass of His Own

            (With apologies to T.S. Eliot)

McLassity’s a backward Nerd, he’s bottom of his class –

His logic’s drawn from Wonderland, his reasoning is crass.

He conjures up his facts at will, he builds theories out of air,

With all his listeners long since fled – McLassity’s still there!

McLassity, McLassity, there’s no one like McLassity,

There never was a babbler of such asinine tenacity,

His muddled, fuddled arguments would make a bishop swear,

And though you pray he’ll disappear – McLassity’s still there!

You may groan aloud with anguish, you may cry out in despair,

But no matter how you scold or shout – McLassity’s still there!

McLassity’s Neanderthal, he’s surly, squat and round,

His knees invade his ankles, while his knuckles trail the ground,

His simian brow is villainous low, his head’s an empty space,

Where homeless, wandering clichés cross the void behind his face,

He utters loud and bleating cries, like ten demented sheep,

And though he thinks he’s arguing, he’s talking in his sleep.

McLassity, McLassity, there’s no one like McLassity,

He prattles like a parakeet, devoid of all sagacity.

You may meet him at a lecture, glaring wildly through his hair,

But when God handed out our brains – McLassity wasn’t there!

He claims he’s intellectual – he publishes thick books –

But he is even thicker, if we judge him by his looks,

And when a speaker’s silenced, or a lecturer is stifled,

Or an argument chops logic, or someone’s thought’s been rifled,

Or a patient, suffering audience throws its hands up in the air,

You needn’t be surprised to learn – McLassity was there!

McLassity, McLassity, there’s no one like McLassity,

He grapples with ideas far beyond his small capacity,

He plunges into balderdash with comical audacity,

He spouts his endless tommyrot and claptrap with vivacity,

While all around are groaning at his gibbering loquacity,

As he purloins his poppycock with imbecile rapacity.

McLassity, McLassity, there’s no one like McLassity,

There never was a Nerd like him, bereft of perspicacity.

He always has a speech to make – and one or two to spare:

When Truth and Reason suicide – McLassity’s still there!

And they say that all the Nerds whose rigmarole puts you to sleep,

(I might mention academic Nerds who bore you till you weep)

Are nothing more than clones of the Nerd whose endless yap

Can make even death seem welcome – the Napoleon of crap! 

COPYRIGHT (C) 2010 J D FRODSHAM