Jottings from my note book, day 2

Todays jotting is part two of my never finished plan to write a book entirely in poetic verse form called ” the well oiled robot bar,” ( part one can be found here.) The story was going to be similar to Hitch-hikers guide to the galaxy but with more drinking and this section was called, ” hyperspace lager “.

Raise your glass of lager slowly
Let it linger before your eyes.
Admire your drink’s golden shine
That’s better than any planet rise.
You’re now ready to drink
McGuirk’s galaxy famous lager.
Enjoy it you’ve earnt it
But before you go any further.
There’s a few things to tell you
With some forms to sign right now.
It’s just small print but could you
Jot down your blood type as well?
Ok let’s start the questions
Don’t touch that lager just yet.
As depending on your answers
It could be a drink you regret.
Now are you from the planet Rigel?
No, well it’s not hard to tell.
Anyway Rigelians can’t drink lager
As it can cause their fins to swell!
Are you from a parallel universe?
It’s important that I know.
As lager will just makes you sober
Then it might make your head explode.
We’ll skip the other questions
There’s a hundred if that.
Let’s get to the important stuff
Before your beer goes flat.
Please sign here, here and here
Then download a copy of your will.
Pose for your grave’s hologram
Now take this small blue pill.
You want to know what the pill’s for
Ok I’ll tell you just don’t shout.
It stops intergalactic body snatchers
Cloning you if you happen to pass out.
Oh you don’t want your lager now
You say you don’t fancy the taste.
Well just leave it there my friend
I’ll see it doesn’t go to waste.


Observations in a Boozer

Bloodshot eyes peer out
From under a faded baseball cap,
While shaky hands can only be stilled
By cuddling his glass.
Then like a fisherman’s nets
He casts out words
Trying to snare a conversation,
But the bait is poor
And nothing bites.
So he turns back to
His intense contemplation
Of the charity collection tin.
Drink finished and glass slammed down
He gives a goodbye both
Muffled and ignored
And he’s gone.


I visited a new pub on the way home from work last night and spotted the man who inspired this poem propping the bar up.  The poem itself is my idea of what this chaps character is, I didn’t speak to him and for all I know this might be a complete character assassination ?

Beer, it’s just liquid bread really isn’t it ?



My medical results came the other day,
They were a sorry sight to behold.
The Doctor looked at me and sighed,
“Son you might not live to be old.
Your cholesterol is high,
Your blood pressure is low,
Your heartbeat erratic,
And your pulse quite slow.
You need to start taking exercise
Perhaps try a sport as a hobby?”
“Doctor,” I said ,”that’s not possible.
Sports really not my cup of tea.
Just look closely at those results doc
Tell me why I can’t follow your advice?”
The doctor rescanned the paperwork,
And his eyebrows began to rise.
“It can’t be, it’s impossible,” he spluttered.
“But your sport gene has withered and died.
I really must confirm these results,
Tell me what sports you have tried?”
“Well doc I didn’t get a kick out of football,
And why people play cricket I’m stumped.
Golf’s really just not for me,
I even get tired playing top trumps.
I’ve certainly never tried rugby,
And darts just seems pointless,
Swimming made my heart sink,
Why even walking gives me stress!”
“My dear boy you must try something,
You can’t just sit and mope.
There must be some sport you do like?
Something with even which you can cope?”
“Well I enjoy a short walk to the pub doc,
Where I might jump the queue at the bar.
Then I’ll give my pint arm a workout,
But I don’t like to take things to far!”
I think this upset the good doctor,
He said,” your future isn’t bright.”
So I left his surgery quite sharpish,
And popped into my local for a pint.

Saturday early morning thoughts

I never thought I would fall in love again,
Until that day when you entered my life.
You never posh but me always Becks,
My silent understanding patient wife.
At first I thought you would complete me,
Failing to realise there’s a flaw in my design.
I’m always half full but your luckily never empty,
As you soak up all of my spare time.
You took me to so many places,
Where I took whatever I could.
I took advantage of your easy nature,
But I suppose you knew I always would.