Monday, 15 February 2010
I'm A Secret Binge-Thinker
I'm a secret binge-thinker,
One of an ever-increasing number in Britain,
Which is now,
According to the mid-brow papers,
In the unrelenting grip,
Of a chronic binge-thinking epidemic.
I started to secretly binge-think about one year ago,
I had to grab a short binge-think,
Before I could face work in the morning,
And, now, it's got so bad,
I must grab a secret binge-think at my desk.
No, I don't think any one's noticed,
Not yet - thank God,
But it's only a matter of time isn't it?
Do you think they'd understand?
I'd lose my job in an instant,
With my discombobulated, thunk,
Head in my hands.
I'm not proud to be a serious binge-thinker,
But what can I do?
I don't even enjoy binge-thinking anymore,
It's definitely not a pleasure, it's a chore..
I sometimes think neat,
On the rocks,
By the sea,
Or sometimes with a bit of cheese.
And it's not unusual now,
For me to mix up my binge-thinks,
I've awoken so many times,
Sprawled, brain-mashed by the library fountain,
Three times now,
Have charged me with thunk disorderliness,
It means I now have a record.
And, yes, I know,
That if I carry on binge-thinking like this,
I may die..