The other day we were asked to write a piece around personification, where we give character to an inanimate object.

We were provided a list of objects to choose from:

  • A vacuum cleaner in a shop window
  • A tailor’s dummy in a junk shop
  • A loose button on an old coat
  • A stained glass window in a derelict church
  • A CCTV camera on a station platform at night
  • A lift (elevator) in an office block
  • A motorbike in pieces on the kitchen floor
  • A bottle of aspirin in a bathroom cabinet
  • A spoon in a bedsit
  • A wardrobe in a hotel bedroom
  • A reading lamp on a tidy/cluttered desk
  • A paintbrush in a jar of turps

There were some wonderful pieces, quite a few tailors’ dummies, a loose button hanging by a thread, a motorbike, a shy CCTV camera that kept looking away, and a couple of office lifts.

I’m sure you can work out which one I chose …

Eat your arm off, I will.
Don’t tempt me; don’t give me the pleasure.
Chomp, chomp, munch, munch.
And now your foot.
Get out of my way, I’m in a rush, I have work to do.
Your attitude, your intolerable attitude to your minions,
It disgusts me, but here I’ll still do your bidding.
I won’t grumble like the others.
Neither will I bow down before you.
Straighten your tie; yes you should.
Wipe off that lipstick; your wife will know.
I know.
We all do.
I look, and spy on everyone.
We all talk when we believe no one listens.
Secrets like a confessional box.
A box, yes; but confession?
Huh, I signed no NDA.
I may welcome you with open arms,
But I might not set you free.

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