the pub when we see
rhubarb and rough cider selling
with a saggy old bint
with a passion for arm-wrestling
and eating faggots, black pudding
with no teeth in, she was
a big old shed with
a big boiler in front
rather similar to Dawn French
who got rid of a
big hairy monkey that was
called clyde, and likes swinging
traffic wardens from tall trees
by their testicles until they
scream out at the passing
Cyclists who visit the pub
on a Sunday after riding
about with the vicar after
a “special” choir practice where
everyone sings to the same