Erection Day
I woke up without internet. I heard the sounds of machinery outside, so I looked out the window, and there’s a bunch of blokes removing the telegraph pole. They had some mechanical arm thingy (you can tell I’m knowledgeable on construction equipment) moving the pole from side to side and then lifting it out of the ground.
One of my neighbours is out arguing with them. He’s yelling, ‘Some of the locals worship it as a god, and they’re going to be pissed off that you uprooted Lord Polington!’
Some of my other neighbours have come out of their homes and are having a vigil. One is making an offering: ‘Lord Polington, we ask that you accept this humble gift of sacrificed goats in exchange for internet services.’
Now the workers are using a machine that moves up and down in the hole. I believe it’s called a ground fucker. My understanding is that the ground fucker thrusts in and out while a worker tickles the nearby bollards.
All of the neighbours in the vigil have begun singing, ‘Bam chikka wah wah,’ and one of the women has removed her clothing to dance for Lord Polington’s titillation.
They have Lord Polington strapped to the top of a truck, and a sleek newer pole is lying on the ground. A group has broken off from the vigil and are attempting to clamber onto the truck to free him, and some of the women are crying and wailing, ‘He died for our broadband!’
They appear to be having trouble getting the new pole up. One of the workers is hugging the other and assuring him that it’s okay, it happens to all men, and they’ll try again in a little bit.
The members of the vigil have begun to mock and jeer. One of the workers is in tears and pleading, ‘I’m doing the best that I can! It’s just so much pressure!’
All of the commotion is doing nothing to remedy my lack of internet. I yelled out my window to get on with it and one of the workers flipped me off, and the guy who’s crying is inconsolable.
The worker just shouted, ‘You try erecting a pole while being booed by zealots, you prick!’
The new pole is up. The vigil has joined hands, and they’re singing, ‘Fah-who foris, dah-who doris, welcome Poley, bring broadband.’
One of the workers has climbed into a basket thingy and is up the top of the pole fiddling with the tip. Another is on the ground laying cable in the middle of the road. There are public toilets at the of my street, for fuck’s sake!
They’ve got some of the cables connected now. They’re struggling with this one because some of the local children are using it to skip. One of the workers joined in, doing some kind of jiggly double-ditch, and his foreman thumped him in the ear and told him to grow up.
Still no internet at my house. Unfortunately, I have to get ready for an appointment, so I won’t be able to keep on eye on their shenanigans.
As I was leaving, the truck was pulling away, taking the pole with it, but leaving the little man in the basket up the pole.
I returned to find he was still up there. One of my neighbours is offering water from a sponge, but he refuses to take it because he has a can of Vimto.
There’s no sign of them coming back. A large crowd has gathered around him, and he’s started to sing Always Look on the Bright Side of Life. It’s pretty moving.
To conclude my story, I now have internet, the little man in the basket has built himself a makeshift nest, and my neighbours have laid offerings around the new telegraph pole and sung it a hymn in fealty.
