A tall order

I’m the servant of a giant
(Although I really shouldn’t boast);
He’s an omnipotent colossus
With a reach from coast to coast.

I represent his varied interests;
I’m his agent in these parts,
As a master there’s no other
Who could surpass his practised arts.

Gracing elevated circles,
Wreathed in cool airs rarefied,
Yet he has no nose to peer down
He has no eyes to open wide.

No teeth to grind, no lips to purse,
No ears to hear, no voice to curse,
He has no soul, that’s what is worse.

His facade is smooth and featureless,
Plain signs masked by blank discretion;
This most faceless of employers
Is devoid of man’s expression.

Sat opposite his poker face,
Perched on his silent shoulder cold,
To my tuned ego he transmits:
Filling my mind with claims of gold…

He imbues me with gold fever,
Sweating bad debts at his behest,
Terms and conditions are inflexible;
In treasure hunts he grants no rest.

Of late he’s rather risk averse,
Reversing credit to coerce,
Lump sum repayments you disburse.

He has plans to deal with defaults,
Of subterfuge he never tires;
Eavesdropping folk’s conversations
Through holding the telephone wires.

Should you stand in opposition
To your doorstep there’ll come trouble;
Try shovelling for a weekend,
After which your debt will double!

For all you repeat offenders,
He’ll cut your power lines right out,
Burn your gas and freeze your water,
Bleed you dry with never a doubt.

With methods ever more adverse,
He’ll have you strung out in a hearse,
Unless your coins clink in his purse.

Resist and your car’s a pancake,
He’ll uproot your family tree;
His gardening grows vindictive
Unless you pay your tithe to me.

He’ll delight to leave you homeless;
Peel off the roof above your head,
Snatch away your wailing children
Roll you right up then flick you dead.

So fill these forms in triplicate
Sign your name on the dotted line;
He keeps records to claim gift aid
In an account book old as time.