General Humour

A Winter's Tale

Feb 2005

It was a cool December night
And I was on the pull
When I met this lovely-looking girl
In the bar of "The Talking Bull".

I remember it all so clearly -
The repartee and chat,
I smiled at her and she said,
"Whadaya think you're looking at?"

Her voice was like a foghorn
But she moved with style and grace,
Especially when I tried it on
And she slapped me round the face

But then she kissed it better
And held me really tight
And asked if I was going back
To her place for the night.

Refusal would be really rude,
Was what went through my mind
As I climbed the stairs up to her flat,
Admiring her behind

And then the door was open
And she led me to the bed
Past the handcuffs, and the whip,
And the plastic horse's head.

There were pictures on the wall of men
In rubber gloves and masks
And women smoking pipes and wearing
Stockings and red basques,

And on the bedside table
Was a truncheon, long and black,
Next to the photo of a labrador
Wearing a plastic mac.

It all seemed just a bit surreal,
Which I put down to the booze
And the little pill I'd taken earlier
To keep me set on 'cruise'

Then things got kinda busy,
There were people everywhere
And everything went hazy
But I didn't really care.

Next thing, I was sitting
On a seat in Regent's Park
Wondering how I'd got there
And why it wasn't dark

And why I'd got a headache
And a dry and painful throat
And why I'd got no clothes on
Underneath my coat.

So let this be a lesson
To those out on the pull:
Beware the voice like a foghorn,
It talks a load of bull

But of course there is an upside
Should you wish to have a go,
'Cos I know that I enjoyed it -
I've seen the video.

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the above work is copyright David Axton © All Rights Reserved