*

 

“Knock, knock” “Who’s there?”  I haven’t a clue

What day is it? Who’s at my door?

“Here is some breakfast I made just for you”

Says some stranger who slept on my floor

The sight of the eggs and the bacon and tea

Turns my stomach inside upside down

Migraine’s the price that I’ve paid for the glee

Of a banging night out on the town

“‘Ere, it’s New Year, do you fancy a beer?”

“No thanks, mate, I’m feeling quite rough”

I may have blacked out after midnight I fear

But now I’m…remembering…Stuff

Slowly but surely it’s coming to mind

As glimpses emerge from the fog

Of a twist and a twerk and a bump and a grind

And my new Christmas phone down the bog

I thought I was hot but in retrospect not

In the morning light nowt could be plainer

And that I remember I like not a jot

My naked and drunk Macarena

Oh me and my mates, we do get in a state

And last year we gave it some welly

But if anyone had not enough on their plate

We’d do onesies and pizza and telly

My mates are my life, we’re a pretty tight bunch

They’re alright, mate, they’re really all right

But last night I must have been well out to lunch

For I reckon I started a fight…

It was something to do with a girl I once knew

And a joke that she did stuff for money

And a fine upper cut in the queue for the loo

Well, I thought the punch line was funny

Oh, what’s in my pockets, this isn’t my coat

As I’m clearly not Super or Dry

And what are the words that are writ on this note

‘Bell me, baby, you’re totally fly’

And I’m going commando; hilarious bants

Will be had in regards to my loss

Much mirth to be had from the sight of my pants

On the top of the Market Cross

It’s not looking good, and tucked in to my hood

Are two gherkins all wrapped in a bra

Half a kebab and a squashed Christmas pud

And a wing mirror nicked from a car

I think I’m experiencing chemical guilt

And at some point I’ll have to atone

But right now I’m going to hide under my quilt

Crying blubbery tears for my phone

*

by Gail