Avram Zephir became the latest Remington League typing pool supervisor to be unceremoniously fired yesterday after a short ceremony in which a kangaroo court made him jump before he was pushed. He shouldered the blame for his pool’s inability to come up with even a recognisable couplet after promising, if not the complete works of Shakespeare, at least one of the minor comedies, his reign ending in tragedy.
‘I really needed infinite time and an infinite number of typists,’ said Zephir, ‘so it was always going to be an uphill struggle to turn things around within six months when sometimes I could hardly even find eleven fit monkeys at one time, never mind any that understood the basics.
‘One dominant pool in the North West has a supervisor who’s actually been there an infinite length of time, while another is succeeding by spending an infinite amount of money. In our case the interest payments meant we couldn’t even afford paper to practice with.’
With no money to hire monkeys who could get a single piece of paper into a typewriter at all, still less hit the keys in any kind of organised fashion, Zephir was left with a squad that spent their days throwing erasers and unravelling their ribbons and their nights in treetop shrieking and display rituals.
Watching the pool’s woeful behaviour yesterday was Trevor Simian, revered in his typing days for writing the entire first quatrain of Sonnet 18, spoiling the result only by including, ‘Thou art more lovely and more temperate than a banana,’ a typical lapse that led to him representing his country less often than many thought he should.
Zephir could only watch helplessly as rival pool the Red Arses settled quickly into their iambic pentameter, producing a winning, ‘To be or not to be, that is the question,’ although critics say their style of typing one word each in rapid succession makes it difficult to maintain consistency.
A resigned Zephir said he might try his chances at producing the works of Dante in the Italian Olivetti League, saying he was finished in England. ‘The game is up. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. Thereby hangs a tale. Once more unto the breach, dear friends. Fuck this for a game of soldiers.’