The joke that leaves a sour aftertaste…
Ever present in the pub
Like a Toby Jug gathering dust
He sits beneath His name
In His corner and judges
A pissed-up His Honour
A slurrer of uncivil words
Waits with ruddy face
And a case to put forward
Says something earnest
As he grabs your elbow
Would like to get to know you well
Skips about like the record
On the too used, not demanded jukebox
Popular – like chicken pox
Asks if you don’t mind racist jokes
Secretly wouldn’t mind changing
The pub’s name to
The Rubicon Crossed
All that it signifies in his eyes
Eyes you sipping Diet Coke and wonders
If this is the first of the evening’s blunders
Dreams of absconding with the till
And Old Gill’s bristols
(She pulled a mean pint until that unfortunate fight
With breast cancer)
Still dreams
Still waits until the bell is rung
Dreams of what he’ll do once the bell is rung.
© Steve O’Connor. 2010
Joshua Coates
Sat 5th Jun 2010 23:43
This reminds me of the people who hand around the local near me. not the most pleasant of places.
You create a clear picture of this pub world and it's just a magnificent read. Would be interesting to hear more from these characters in this pub