The Ballad Of Billy Nomates

 

You were bigger than a bus,

with a face as red as Martian dust

and a neck that started somewhere in your crown.

I was small and insecure,

as I approached the guarded door,

knowing that you were about to put me down.

 

You were giving me that look

that said you couldn’t give a fuck

for my need to get beyond the ticket box.

I was holding out my chest,

stretching the sinews of my vest,

strutting like a willing bantam cock.

 

You were eyeing all the passing girls

in their glitter, lace and pearls.

Monumental granite dressed in black.

I was almost past the gate

when your expression turned to hate

and I felt your shovel hand fall on my back.

 

You were quick to weigh me up,

just some cocky little pup

not fit to shine your spit and polished boots.

I was dressed up to the nines

flashing all the bad-boy signs

in my brothers, slightly large, Armani suit.

 

You were laughing in my face,

at my obvious disgrace,

pointing at the poster on the wall.

I was chilled to read the type,

after falling for the hype.

‘Tonight, the long awaited Saddo’s Ball!’

 

You were obviously impressed

at the way that I was dressed.

You stepped aside and deigned to let me through.

I was overcome with dread

at the words the Bouncer said –

“There’s no one else here mate – just me and you”.