The daily grind of the

Hangover bus journey

To the daily grind of

Mailbox

Inbox

Management cocks

 

And the days continue to roll and turn

Like massage parlour knuckles

Soothing the tax man’s greed

 

And you land at the end of the week

And you breathe

 

And you send him a kiss

As you exchange your hard-earned

For a pint of bliss.

 

Then the darkness creeps in and

Fills your glass

And the last of the stress is

Drowned away

When a shadow falls across your fish bowl-

A swaying stranger,

Modelling that ‘just met’ glow,

Inviting himself to rant and moan,

Spilling his frothing bitter on your phone.

 

Now this is no time

For bullshit strangers

To discuss leeching politics

Or screeching prisoners

Or flooding foundations

Or collapsing nuclear stations.

 

THIS is the time to get the drinks in

Get lost in your gin

Get lost in the screaming din

Of the drunken proletariat.

THIS is the Friday lock-in.

 

SO.

You turn to the bullshit stranger,

His loose and cocky repartee

Making your tongue curl and your skin crawl

And you’re drenched in the monotonous sound

That drowns the free-thinking thoughts you’d found.

 

Yet still he persists

With his bullshit cadence,

Falling on ears of imposed patience

Except your feet are itching

Your wallet burning

And what you really want to do

Is buy a kebab

And skip in your socks

Steal a traffic cone

And laugh at the moon

Raising a hip flask salute

To the whistle of diminishing sirens

Flinging your pissed-up melody

At the silent trees.

 

But you’re stuck in your chair

With some bullshit stranger

His excitable spit on your face, in your hair,

And you know that THIS is not the time.

 

So you stand, defiantly, decisively,

Ready to fling him sidewardly,

But before you speak

There’s the funniest bundle

A delightfully incongruous creature

Balanced on the shoulder of the

Bullshit stranger.

 

Poised

Its furry paws

JUST at the tips of his ignorant ears

And its bobbing tail

Taps his designer collar

And its bright round eyes

Catch your own and wink.

 

THIS is the time to declare THANK FUCK FOR THE FLUFFY BUNNY.

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