(NB this is not a kiddy poem)
He
lurks by the bar,
He’s
downing his beer,
He’s
lairy, he’s sweary,
He’s
had two or three.
He
chats up the birds,
There’s
nothing to fear
Until...
he needs a wee.
For
nothing panics good old Lionel
Like
standing at the men’s urinal.
It
makes him sweat, it scares him rigid,
Catching
sight of another man’s digit.
Eyes
straight ahead! Just keep on pishing!
Block
out the view from your peripheral vision!
Gawk at
the pork? No bloody way!
If you
clock a cock you MUST be gay!
He’s
dancing away,
He’s
busting the moves,
He’s
healthy, he’s wealthy,
He’s
flashing the cash.
He’s
loving the party vibe,
Loving
the grooves
Until...
he needs a slash.
For
nothing tortures Micky McGee
Like a
trip to the gentleman’s WC.
He’ll
go to great lengths, he’s determined, he’s hell-bent
On
avoiding the sight of another bloke’s bell-end.
He’ll
don some blinkers, there’s a lot at stake –
He
might catch a glimpse of a trouser snake!
It’s
driving him nuts! He needs to get sectioned!
Penises
flying in all directions!
He’s
pumping some iron,
He’s
lifting some weights,
He’s
hurly, he’s burly,
He’s
fit as a fiddle.
He’s
flexing his biceps,
He’s
feeling just great
Until...
he needs a widdle.
For
nothing troubles our man Gareth
Like copping
sight of some dude’s phallus.
He gets
palpitations, he breaks out in hives –
Eyes to
the front! Don’t look to the sides!
For no other horror can compete
With an
inadvertent peak of meat.
You’ll
be OK, mate. You’ll struggle through.
But... is the guy
next to you glancing at YOU??
