Worrisit abarght Bank Holidays that upset the Old Git?
Days without any buses to get him anywhere,
Spends too much time sat in his computer chair,
Days stuck communicating with the blogosphere,
Tormenting his haemorrhoids in his recliner chair,
Global-Virgin will fail again, but this is not rare!
He thinks back to 1962, when he had an affair,
He eats, no one to talk to, he gets chubbier,
Ever increasing weight, makes him feel even barmier!
His neighbour residents go off but to where?
To visit friends and families, kids or maybe an heir?
They go to the Bahamas, New York or Guinea-Bissau,
He can’t afford a holiday away, that’s not fair!
Leaving the sad repugnant Gerry, lonely and in despair,
No buses, can’t get to see his Sister Jane to eat one any donair,
Then pass wind and get thrown out, with Janes usual flair.
Wondering why he is short, fat and has no hair,
No social skills, not distinguished or debonair,
His body and mind in a state of disrepair.
Feeling down, he sometimes gets out of the chair,
In search of biscuits, cheese curls or a chocolate eclair,
If his breasts get any bigger, he’ll need a brassiere!
How will he cope this weekend?
Will his depression ever mend?
I fear he may do something that might hyperextend…
His sanity, health and his stomach may well distend!
When will his eating ever end?
No, hang on, he might yet kick this depressing trend…
Red Dwarf’s on TV later – but he’ll never stay awake to the end!
The reason for this pathetic rhyme not making much sense, and the gammaticalerrors, are put down to Inchcock’s lack of education, his being stupid, his losing the battle against the Pestering Ironclad black biting mini-beetles/weevils and their being no buses for him to use.