My love life is a dusty relic of the Stone Age

The risks of COVID are too much to handle

My new blow-up doll's not quite the same

But dames are just not worth the candle

 

I miss the gossip working from home, and

I'm growing obese eating non-stop cookies,

I'm depressed from thinking about my fate,

Facing queer street from on-line bookies

 

The allotment affords me a brief respite

Yet even that refuge is a fount of regret

I've been glued to the bathroom for days

Green to the gills from a rogue courgette

 

The kids are freshers at Uni, poor sods

My letters come back "return to sender"

The end of my thumb has gone AWOL

Making a fat-free smoothie in the blender

 

Cyclists imperil my daily walks, when I'm

Eyed by frantic sirens who might just snap,

One of these days I'll see me in the paper

Victim of a sex-mad COVID-style kidnap

 

Eye-strain from my home pc takes its toll

My on-line quack has indicated retinitis

Worst of all is this wayward blow-up doll,

The damn thing's just given me cystitis

(coronaverse179)