Vests in the vestry

Photo by cottonbro on
Vests in the vestry

A woman, addicted to liquor,
Woke up with a twist in her knickers.
They were not M and S,
And her very best guess
Was, she'd got them mixed up with the vicar's.

The morning after

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on
The morning after 

A pass at the glass, and I know I'm in trouble. 
Red road maps my eyes, out of focus as Hubble. 
I can't raise a grin, scratchy skin full of stubble. 
Last night, it felt right. It was hell of a party. 
Six shots on the trot, tried to prove me a smarty. 
I should have said no, but I had to have doubles, 
To drink like a fish, with a fistful of bubbles. 

This morning, I'm yawning, but I've work in an hour. 
Heads a shed, feet like lead, as I crawl in the shower. 
Whisky breath, I am death, with a tongue tasting sour. 
Soap, does its work, as I splash it all over. 
Can't face any food, but I'll beat this hangover. 
Laughter, day after? No, I'm dull, done for, dour 
No great loss. I'm the boss. I'm the guy with the power.


Photo by Jimmy Chan on

Grocer Jack 
In cul-de-sac 
Head full of smack 
Tripped on a crack 
On his way back 
From the 'Duck with no Quack'. 

This maniac 
Was taken aback 
Fell with a whack 
Causing crise cardiaque. 
Revived with a snack 
And a double cognac 
From a girl in a sack 
With a dad called Jack.

Friday night fatality

Photo by NEOSiAM 2021 on
Friday night fatality

Blue lights.
Fist fights.
Fast cars.
Packed bars.
Shrill two-tones
Broken bones.
to A and E.
Bare flesh teaser.
Pavement pizza.
Takeaway smells good.
Busted nose spits blood.
Glance wrong, teenage spat.
What you's looking at?
Vicious looking flick knifes.
Liberated housewives.
Atmosphere electric.
Not again, she's been sick.
Need a leak, take a piss.
All week, work for this.
Feel ill, too much drink.
Bog full, piss in sink.
Cops here, take names.
Stiff them, play games.
Now feeling ill.
I pop a pill.
Final sup.
All fucked up.
Thumping head.
Some guys dead.
All flee
Shit's sake
It's me...

Little ol’ beer drinker

Photo by Ketut Subiyanto on
Little ol' beer drinker
 (To little ol' wine drinker, Dean Martin)
I'm praying for rain in sunny Shropshire
So the hops can swell and they can brew more beer
And I'm standing in a chippy here in Bradford
With a thumping head and a ringing in my ear.

I ask the man behind the counter for an aspirin
And he answers as he serves me pie and peas
This is a chip shop not a bloody chemists
I say, "Little ol' beer drinker me."

I came here last week from up in Grimsby
Cos my baby left for Clacton by the sea
When they ask, "Who's the man who's got a cob on?"
I say,"Little ol' beer drinker me."

I ask the man behind the counter for an aspirin
And he answers as he serves me pie and peas
"This is a chip shop, not a bloody chemists"
I say,"Little ol' beer drinker me."

I say,"Little ol' beer drinker me."
Little ol' beer drinker me.

Cob...Northern slang for sulking


Photo by Daria Sannikova on
A teacher, not known for sobriety
Gave her students a taste of variety
Her swearing backfired
When, improperly attired
She was sacked for a lack of propriety.


Photo by Igor Haritanovich on
Shall I go to Big Bucks
I've money in my jacket
But no, their coffee sucks
I'll go to Costa Packet


Photo by Pixabay on
nourishing, necessary
bought, cooked, eaten
cafe, pub, bar, restaurant
laughing, smiling, serving
frivolous, cheering


Today’s brand new poem on is called cheers. You’ll find it in the menu under other poems. Cheers!


Photo by Valeria Boltneva on
%d bloggers like this: