I guess it’s a kind of bromance thing.
Male bonding, or one-sided bondage?
Think Robin or Jeeves, or Doctor Watson,
or Passepartout if you are French.
Content to pass their days in two dimensions.
The foil, the fool, the hapless fall guy,
with never a thought of stealing the limelight,
going on strike, or asking for an upgrade.
But now and then, one gets strange ideas
above their station. Think of Brutus
and what he did to Caesar. Or Price Harry –
but then again, that might get too ugly.
So if I were you, Bruce Wayne of Gotham,
I’d hide the keys to the Batmobile.
Sherlock, leave no clues in your study,
put hat and notebooks in the safe at night.
And as for you, Bertie Worcester,
lock your golf bag in the wine cellar
before you head off to the Club for lunch
with the niece of Phineas Fogg. In case
the butler decides to raid the pantry.
Best beware those jumped up sidekicks, boys –
it’s enough to give a hero nightmares,
and new hope to the hordes of underdogs.
Hi-Yo Tonto, a quiet word in your ear.
You’ll find that revolver in your holster
is loaded, so why don’t you use it,
and spur Silver off into the sunset?