February 27, 2015

There once was a fellow named Figg
Who was led an unfortunate jig
By a bunch of false claimers
Who told him, quite shameless,
That life owed him payments quite big

Once Mike had a crash (not that bad),
He said Doc, there’s no pain, I’m not sad
But a year or two later
Some claims agitator
Told Mike there was cash to be had

They said we’ll help you get your reward
Say the word, and that cash can be yours
Let us handle your claim
Why not gain from your pain
Your success in this matter’s assured

So Mike claimed he’d had awful gyp
Like the lash of a horrible whip
He’d had trouble sleeping
Was constantly weeping
And thanks, CMC, for the tip!

Insurers LV= were unclear
Why Mike left it over a year
Before citing whiplash,
Brought on by his car crash
It all seemed a little bit queer

Yes, LV= thought the claim was quite risible
and sent poor old Mike for a physical
He said, though I’ve suffered,
I have since recovered
And whiplash, you know, is invisible

Away with it Mike might have gotten
Hamming it up something rotten
But he’d been caught on tape
With no pain in his nape
A small matter he’d long forgotten

Now Mike has been wheeled out in court
Judge Ackroyd’s summation was short
Five grand’s costs must be paid
An example be made
And Mike’s little schemes brought to nought

Let this tale have the power to instruct
Into falseness please never get sucked
Don’t succumb to their whiles
You might end up on trial
And then you’ll be properly

succumbing-to-temptation


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