Eighteenth Draft

Well,
This really is it then,
At last - done.
This is The One.

Eighteen,
Eighteen drafts!
Eighteen?
Yes, eighteen,
Eighteen.

You wouldn't think it would you?


Ner-Ner (Part One)

"Jeremy Clarkson - God, he's the wittiest man alive,"
Stated the delightful dad-rock beer-gut,
He went on,
"He tells it how it is,
Never holds back,
Really socks it to those namby-pamby,
Politically correct, numpty Bambi shaggers -

Nanny state do-gooders,

Them environmentalists - bastards,
Mentalists more like, eh,
Yeah," (he agreed with himself),
"He really let's them have it in the neck,
And he's just so hilarious,
So funny as well,
Isn't he?
Isn't he?!"

I nodded.

Ner-Ner (Part 2)

Later,
To atone,
And for some light-relief,
I poured the entire contents,
Of a Tabasco Sauce bottle -
(That new extra-hot one),
Onto my little fellow -
(If you know what I mean).

I can't say that this,
Unorthodox method,
Of pain-relief worked,
But I suppose -
Given the circumstances,
It was worth a try.

Ner-Ner Ner-Ner,
Went the racing ambulance,
"Oh my head -
Both of them",
Went I.

Ner-Ner Ner-Ner