Arthur in his bin

A dustbin once contained a holy relic
Some socks, a video and a piece of cheese
And Arthur, standing right up to his knees
Disconsolate, and sometimes he went click.
On balance this is rather psychedelic
But what can you expect from text so thin
Or a linguistic construct in a bin
At least I haven't mentioned "Freud" or "phallic",
"Phallogocentric" or "overdetermined"
Though leaving you entirely unillumined —
But what can one expect from rhymes like that
So there we leave him, Arthur in his bin
As though of hemlock he had drunk, or gin —
At least he wasn't wearing a silly hat.

The punch-line is on line three of the subsequent page.

[No]