We all went down the New Delhi, too much curry, aching bellies.
Beater got gut-rot and puked on the floor,
Stez Styx banging on the shithouse door.
'Come on lads, eat up your Bombay duck
We're going to find some girls to give us a decent
Alka Selzer.'
Dan said he knew of a party, we trolled up there belching and farting.
Stez nicked some cans of beer.
Dan shat himself he had diarrhoea, he said:
'Oh lads! Its no fun to dance.'
And he went upstairs to change his underpant.
He opened the window, wipes his arse,
Throws the offending bags on the grass.
He shouts: 'Everybody! Come and look at this! They're streaked with shit!
They're covered in skids! But don't look at me, they're not fucking mine!'
But his loving mum had sewn his fucking name inside.
N.B.-'The New Delhi' -newly opened Indian restaurant. Caused the Great Bogroll Famine of '84.
‘Bombay Duck’- a type of fish served in this and similar establishments.
(Probably chosen from the menu as it affords an excellent rhyme for ‘Alka Seltzer’)
N.B.- ‘Underpant’ is correct. It is unique and, therefore, singular in nature and grammatical appearance.
In a list
A contest entry
- CONTEST: Barry Hodges' Interesting Contest About Your Memories by Barry Hodges.
438 points, ended December 30, 2007, 6 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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This is a very promising poem. I like items about working class English life as they remind me what I have risen above and give me a nice sense of superiority. Where do you live? I am sure one of my relatives was done to death there by some ugly overpaid footballing yobs. If you tell me, I'll dedicate my next "Memories" poem to you for only 200 points.
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macclesfield but i doubt you been there and lived to tell the tale. you can fuck off about the 200 points im saving for a contest
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OK then. How about I'll give you a prize in the contest you have entered this load of old shite into. Then you will have enough points to start a contest. Make sure you start one I am bound to win when I enter "Memories of Macclesfield".
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Sounds like a good night out, mate.
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I like the concept of an "underpant". But it doesn't rhyme too well with "dance". That's my only query really. I love the old working class tradition of sewing Cash's name tapes into one's garments in case other scumbags nick them.
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