The Tragedy of Barry's Ikea Kingsize

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

Barry's life is hit by a tragedy of epic proportions- HIS INABILITY TO CONSTRUCT AN IKEA BED. Hilarious calamity ensues.




Across the suburbs of Perth, when groups of men do gather,


A story is told, passed from mate to mate, to son by father,


 Tis a tragedy that is recited when pints of beer men sup,

At Bull Creek barbeques and in the bars of Joondalup,


On the cricket pitches of Subiaco and in the malls of Canningvale,

Told in quaking voices is this dreadful tale,


For this story contains a message for all men, clear and stark,

The destruction and disgracing of Barry, an accountant from Victoria Park,


Tears of grief you too will surely shed,

As you hear of a man’s life ruined by an Ikea self-assembly bed,


Not a day of regret had known Barry,

Since the lovely Lauren he had asked to marry,


Her blonde, fake-baked looks could make any man’s heart throb,

And it had been that way even before her first nose job,


He loved every sinew of her, every curve packed into leggings by Lorna Jane,

The wiggle of her walk still aroused him to the point of pain,


He loved every Pilates-toned muscle, every eyelash, every delicate bone,

He loved her ringleted, highlighted hair, some of which was her own,


There was one thing though that still made Barry’s soul ache,

When he and Lauren walked hand in hand baffled stares followed in their wake,


Though Barry felt his marriage was made in heaven,

He knew others rated Lauren a ten and Barry a seven,


And so, to keep the approval of one so fair of face,

Barry felt he was on a treadmill where he must continue to race,


He spared no effort to be the perfect hubby,

He worked out at the gym, stayed trim, never tubby,


They got what Lauren wanted: a plunge pool, Fiji holidays, a Mercedes Benz

All to keep Lauren in comfort and of course provoke envy in her friends,


He worked overtime, bought gifts, to insure she did not become disaffected,

But when Barry’s downfall came it was from a direction he never expected,


When Lauren suggested a trip to IKEA to furnish their new nest,

Barry happily agreed, never imagining it would become a test,


On that drive to Innaloo he was contented and happy,

He should have been scared to the point of requiring a nappy,


They made a two-hour odyssey through Ikea’s gargantuan halls,

Close now to the ordering counter and the canteen with its Swedish meat balls,


But as they stalked the last displays with their wee pencil and paper,

Like a snake from the grass, slithered, Zack their next-door neighbour,


Zach and his wife Jane had, some garden lamps and a coffee table, come to fetch,

But as always, Barry noticed, Zack didn’t miss the chance to letch,


While Jane explained they were thinking of buying the fake gold bucket for ice-cubes,

Barry was enraged to notice Zack eyeing Lauren’s expensively enlarged boobs,


If it hadn’t been for Barry’s hatred of public spectacles

He would have responded by kicking Zack in the testicles,


As the couples parted Barry suffered a last parting shot from the berk,

“I can help you with your flatpacks, if you can’t manage,” said Zack with a smirk.


On the drive home, Lauren said that Zack should have been thanked,

But Barry was so humiliated he felt like he’d like been spanked,


In truth Zack’s comment had hit a nerve,

Handyman duties Barry had been known to swerve,


For in the manly arts he had not been prudent,

In the skills of DIY, he was in truth a poor student,


though he tried not to let Zack’s comments get under his skin,

His confidence was shaken when the flatpacks were home and it was time to begin,


“You should start with as small one. The coffee table,” Lauren sensibly said,

But in a fit of bravado, Barry boasted he would tackle the Bjorknas kingsize bed,


While Lauren prepared tofu kebabs and humus for them to guzzle,

Barry tore open the elephantine box of this immense Swedish puzzle,


Box AC18X divulged its dreaded contents: a tidal wave of pinewood, fake brass and plastic,

The notion that he could construct this himself seemed so ridiculous as to be fantastic,


That he would with struggle taming this beast couldn’t be plainer

He was relieved that Lauren now had a boxercise session with her personal trainer


As Lauren set her fit bit she explained she might also stop at the Cannington pedicure bar,

“The bed will be finished” Barry boasted, to stay in his love’s mind a star,



But as soon as she was gone Barry started to sweat,

His boast of completion before Lauren’s return he began to regret,


He tried sorting the pieces but the all looked the same really,

He tried consulting the instructions but they might as well have been in Swahili,


the complexity of the pieces made his eyes go watery,

and the screws had more numbers than a draw of the lottery


He grabbed a beer from the fridge but truly he needed ale by the flagon,

Tackling this monster would be like slaying a dragon,


“Tiny steps small beginnings,” he thought. Glue part A slid into part B. easy and simple,

He squeezed glue from the glue tube like he was squeezing a pimple,


But with a cry of horror he realised he had been a clown,

He had glued A into B upside down,


His DIY efforts from there went downhill,

When trying to hammer nails, blood did he spill,


With fingers all covered in plaster,

his electric drill he could not master,


trying to force part C3 into B5 cracked the wood,

And the base of the headboard didn’t look like the instructions said it should,


It should have been halfway done now but he was still in an awful tangle,

What he had completed all leaned at a funny angle,


A text from Lauren had sweat on his brow glistening,

“How’s the bed coming? [WINK EMOJI] Can’t wait to give it a christening.”


He doubled down for victory, but he had no wins,

He got bolts D7 mixed up with D8 --they were like identical twins!


his frantic frustrations had him imagining plots and dark deeds,

Ikea was an evil conspiracy, a curse on all Swedes!


He tried hard not to despair, to keep going, not give up hope,

But when he looked at his wonky, three-legged creation all he could do was mope,


It was like some mangled experiment in biology,

Or like the multi-headed hydra out of Greek mythology,


The state of the thing hurt like a blow in the solar plexus,

It looked like it had been through the Chainsaw massacre in Texas,


Lauren’s car pulled into the driveway  -- he was beaten the clock!

He couldn’t have felt less manly if he was wearing a frock,


Her key was in the door, he heard the dreaded click,

In an explosion of fury, he gave the loathsome bed a kick,


But even this was a failure, this last masculine show,

When Lauren entered the bedroom, she found him crying because he’d hurt his toe,


Lauren’s response was balm to an ego, grown so frail,

She cradled him like a nurse, like Florenece Nightingale,


When he laid out his ordeal of the hands monsterous bed,

She reassured, “Take it back, we’ll go to Harvey Norman instead,”


When Barry said he thought she would judge him, she became quite irate,

“Husband, your ideas of masculinity are so out of date.”


She assured him there was nothing wrong with being more sensitive, touchy-feely,

Except, in truth…she kind of did really,


Barry’s feelings were soothed, the next day, his heart was light,

But if he knew what his love was truly thinking he would’ve gotten a hell of a fright,


When he went off to the office with its spreadsheets, to earn his crust,

Lauren gazed at his miserable failure of a bed with not a little disgust,


She was in this state, low in defence,

When Zack, the neighbour made his offer, over the garden fence,


“I’ve built sheds, boat and wardrobes,“  the horny bloke said,

“It’ll take me five minutes to knock up a flatpack bed,”


And though she knew it was playing with fire,

She guided Zack to her bedroom as a bed-builder for hire,


To see Zack’s handyman juices flow where Barry’s had spluttered,

Her silicone-enhanced bosom heaved and her heart fluttered,


She couldn’t help but bat her eyelashes, flirt and tease,

 as she saw, Zack construct the bed with ease,


to cut a sordid story short, husband and wife did not have first go on that fateful bed,

The Bjorknas kingsize was, in fact, christened… by Lauren and Zack instead,


So, there essentially ends this fable,

… really don’t need to hear what they did next on the kitchen table,


But don’t just snigger at Barry’s misfortune, I beseech,

Take heed of the lesson that his downfall is there to teach,


Get good with your hands men is the lesson of this sonnet,

Or see another man make your bed and lay your wife on it.


































Submitted: January 03, 2019

© Copyright 2023 Crowefoot. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:


Chris Green

Love this one, Crowefoot. Fantastically creative couplets and a cornucopia of killer rhymes. And I can totaly sympathise with his plight. Ikea stuff is almost impossible to assemble, made worse by the inept diagrams.Nice work!!

Thu, January 3rd, 2019 8:22am


Thanks so much for reading Chris! Glad you enjoyed the rhymes. Yes hopefully plenty of readers will laugh out of that sense of recognition for his predicament.

Sun, January 6th, 2019 4:27am

Bobi Leutschaft Poitras

Anyone who has ever tackled IKEA furniture can relate to this! So well done and so humorous! Just hilarious! I love it! (I also love exclamation points as you can plainly see...!)

Thu, January 3rd, 2019 1:06pm


Thank you so much for reading! Glad it made you laugh! Yes i love exclamation marks too!

Sun, January 6th, 2019 4:25am

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