DRUNK HUBBY BONKS TURKEY SANDWICH
Sunday Sport, 1 January 2012
What would you do if you knew that all
was doomed, the credits due to roll?
Race back over the time line, erase
this headlight knowledge from my gaze!
I only bought the Sunday Sport
to check the form and lighten my load
but there, in the midst of bountiful breasts
(the nipple count put them at seventy six)
was a journalistic scoop so bleak
the Greek black hole seemed less alarming,
Japan’s tsunami a minor leak,
Korea’s new leader queerly charming.
And what dire news had so rosied my specs?
The Sport’s correspondent in St Moritz
revealed that world leaders had laid final plans
for the last episode of the story of man,
and like Pat Butcher’s last croak on Eastenders,
the mysterious Bilderberg Group, whose members
include Henry ‘Strangelove’ Kissinger,
Melinda Messenger and the Chancellor of the Exchequer,
is keeping the script a close-guarded secret.
But thanks to the Sport—Oh I wish I hadn’t bought it!—
the truth has been outed. There’ll be looting, utter panic,
when a year from today Earth collides with a planet!
The opposite page gave a glimpse of the depth
of depravity to be unleashed at the death
of the world: a certain Jeff Collins was caught
in flagrante ‘stuffing’ the family turkey.
Well, what would you do if you knew that all
was doomed, the credits due to roll?
(c) 2012 Slush Poet
