Fighting broke out in our local pub

when a nutter threw a chair through the air

hitting a brick shithouse sized gypsy woman breaking the guitar she was strumm'u'n

who turned as mean as a grizzly bear

she blamed a small man whose name was Daft Dan,and slung him over the bar

becoming hysterically squeamish,a posh lady from Beamish phoned for a cop in a car

In came Mr Plod,a lazy stubble chinned sod

with his typical-'lets be having you!

to which a couple of Lancashire lasses who had downed too many glasses

tore of his trousers in two!

Landlord came rushing down,in his Rupert Bear motif'd dressing gown

and was immediately hit by a bottle

arse over tit he tumbled in a state so unfit,nearly choked on his own epiglottal.

Now Mad Mauler Mick,pot bellied and thick was loving banging heads together

although normally nice,quiet as a church emptied of mice

he had come to the end of his tether

Underneath a small table,old and unable,two pensioners feared for their lives

ducked just in time without spilling their shared half lager and lime

surviving a long hail of knives.

An annoyed chorus went up from a hen party out on the sup

because their 'do' was violently intervened

-'oh shut up you slags'replied a gaggle of hags,too thickly made up,their fat arses

                                                                          too tightly jean'd

like a muddle of witches,about to be needing so many stitches,the bitches got

                                                                         stuck into each other

without any care,teeth flew and hair,one minger even ended up chinning her Mother!

Then through a revolving door in poured coppers more

but upon seeing and hearing the din decided against becoming involved

spinning back out and away into the safe light of day

how quickly that door revolved and revolved!

Scrapping commenced,there seem no end hence,biffing and bashing went on

such was the grief,bodies requiring a coffin and wreath littered the ale house floor

                                                                            one by one

Could not be made the descision for a short intermission

how long would this mayhem endure?

It was two weeks later,Bert,the blood spattered waiter

was found sat on a corpse pile of two hundred or more

'I wonder' thought he surveying the dead actually numbering two hundred and three

'whatever happened to the nights of singing and laughs?

unbeknown to him the trouble was started by seven foot regular Grumpy Guts Jim

                                                 refused credit for froth headed draughts

he had kicked up a stink since being denied unpaid drink and gave the barman a slap

at the end of the fight he was nowhere in sight,because he was hidden open mouthed neath a beer flowing tap!

 

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© Stef Wilde 13th April 2015