Category Archives: Regret

What happened to peace, love and understanding? (Would you believe, this happened to a friend of mine…)

Hard Headed woman.

After another week of our boss giving us yet more grief
I headed into the cosy bar for a little Friday night relief,
It was a workmates birthday, I felt obliged to celebrate,
I thought  I’d sent a text to say I would be home at eight.

I never received her reply.

I swear I only had one beer, then a wee drop o’ scotch
When I chanced to glance down at my broken watch,
Was I deluded in thinking I could believe that bitty toy?
The night was young and so was the birthday girl-er, boy.

Strange how time slips by.

Drinks were drunk and soon my quiet night grew loud,
And then I saw a(double) vision stand out of the crowd,
Suddenly I forgot she was the daughter of my bosses brother,
Suddenly I felt no fidelity towards my significant other.

But I felt that tingle in my thigh.

I blame the drink, I blame the passion in her eyes,
But I didn’t fancy facing her, hungover, come sunrise,
I left her snoring in her room, slipped away like a jerk,
Come Monday I’d find workplace romances do not work.

And I’d kissed my job goodbye.

But in the here and now, in the cold light of the day
My usually ever-understanding partner tells me to f- go away,
Ignoring my gentle taps tap upon the door, then my heavy knocks,
No sweet-talking her round this time, she’s changed the locks.

She’s not letting this sleeping dog lie.

That hard hearted woman won’t answer text or call,
That woman’s got me beating my head against the wall,
Why, she always knew what kind of butt-headed man I am?
Now neither she nor this thick brick wall will give a damn.

Oh, what a bone-headed bloody fool am I.

September 19th staggers along again. Birthdays can take on a bittersweet quality after the party’s over.

Sup, Bro?

All things must pass;
Still, lets raise a glass
To gone-too-soon Chet,
No, not forgotten just yet.

He’d not want us to cry,
He’d rather see a dry eye,
He was all about fun and laughs
And his life was never lived by halves.

Now, if he were standing here
He’d say ‘Cheers’ and sink his beer,
So here’s to a fine uncle and big brother,
And, thinking of Chet, who’s keen on another?

The Premier League Football Show! Drama, farce, heart-rending finales! Or a cheap slipshod Horror Show. Direct from Manchester, we present-

Dribbling On.

I’ve been reduced to tears with what I’ve just sadly seen,
A bad Shakespearean tragedy, played out on the big screen,
I saw a dull first act, then a direr second half, ay, but the rub
Was seeing City outperform United, down at our neutral pub.

How those happy blue-clad lads scoffed and laughed
As I sobbed in the shadows, hand clenched to my Draught,
To drown my sorrows it’s swig, swallow, belch- then repeat;
But not even Boddingtons can dull the pain of this bitter defeat.

I rewound the game in my mind, I compared the teams,
My United looked all clapped-out at the Theatre of Dreams,
Especially statuesque Pogba, devoid of emotion- or motion;
The only thing to get him goin’ would be some Sennapod potion.

Our offence seemed content to quietly sit back
Hoping indolence would be the best form of attack,
The City midfield were all fleet of foot and quick of mind,
Ours gave chase, ran all over the place, always two feet behind.

But our backline stood tall and strong, stout and true,
They and the keeper conspired to keep out all- but two;
So all I can do is put on a smile and say ‘the best team won,’
I love Old Trafford, but Gunnar, there’s rebuildin’ to be done.

Walking woozily to the bar I recall when we were Best,
Now the froth has gone, up at the top are teams I detest,
It’s with tears in my beer I cry ‘Christ, how can life be so cruel?’
God above, my choice for Champion is down to City or Liverpool.

It is better to have loved and lost, some do say. I say, ‘yeah, right.’

Anniversary Blues.

Sometimes it’s the simple little things;
The way a new sprung sparrow witlessly sings,
Now, what a hollow feeling that birdsong brings
And dark thoughts of a sunny day and wedding rings.

…On the beach, on the sand,
A gleam of gold on her left hand,
A joyous time for our happy band,
And did we not say ‘ain’t love grand?’

Of one thing we two were sure,
Our love was unadulterated and pure,
For evermore she’d be my one amour,
Our love was truly bound to endure.

Winter came, left me chilled to the core,
The cold I hold in my heart has yet to thaw,
The view we’d shared, of that golden shore
Offers me not warmth nor comfort anymore.

It might be the sight of a gull wheeling on high,
A touch of white, up in a clear bright blue empty sky,
Down here I’m alone to hear its stupid senseless cry
Cruelly tail off in the wind, to drift, to fade, to die.

Travel the world, broaden your horizons, but above all respect other countries customs.

Touch Down.

We deboarded blearily upon our belated arrival at LAX,
We wearily complied with Customs and Security checks,
I regret to say I might not have been at my diplomatic best
By asking the flunky why he treated me as an unwelcome guest?

He took much umbrage with my query, but that’s not all he took,
I lost my dignity when he gave me more than a searching look,
It’s been an uncomfortable welcome to the land of the free;
All that poking and probing don’t sit too easily with me.

Cardinal Pell, off to jail, found guilty of abusing two young innocents. Still, he has a few (redundant) conservatively minded men who still support him.

Beyond Belief.

George Pell is due to serve six long years,
George has had quite the fall from grace,
He prays his appeal will reach Gods ears
And deliver him from this cold dark place.

But some do still believe the old Vatican envoy,
John Howard believes whatever George says,
Tony Abbott believes he’s innocent as a choirboy;
George believes… that’s an unfortunate phrase.

Crystal Palace play host to Brighton And Hove Albion. Old friends always find succor and comfort at Selhurst Park. (Palace 1, Brighton 2.)

Home Truths.

Oh, how the Crystal Palace fans love to roam-
They know there’s little joy in playing at home.

Eagles fans and players revel in their travelling ways
Since Selhurst Park offers ’em cold comfort these days.

The staff at Selhurst Park remain convivial and charming
But heaving out the welcome mat to Hove is most alarming.

And so goes the game, Deja vu, Palace do what we do best,
Letting Brighton Albion linger on, like an unwelcome guest.

Selhurst Park is becoming an Away teams Field of Dreams,
Surely we’re taking ‘charity begins at home’ to extremes.