"Sicknote"

I wish I was at home
Don't want to be here tonight
Got a stinking cold
Feeling totally shite.
Struggling at work
Not even got the sympathy vote
I really should have gone home sick
Just fucked off and got my coat.
It's not as if I'm on 'zero hours'
It's the Council proper pay
It won't affect my wages
If I go or if I stay.
So why play the martyr
While having a cough and a splutter?
Ignoring colleagues moans about germs
Let them have their mutter.
The worst thing about sickness
Is wasting sick leave when you're sick
You need to keep it for football
That's the old terrace trick.
I've not got a crystal ball
I can't say when I'll be unwell
But if you see me when we play away to Leiston
You might just be able to tell.
It won't be so much going to football
As up to Suffolk to convalesce
Although to be on the safe side
Keeping out of photos will be best.
Which is why nobody from work's on my Facebook
You never know just in case...
Some snidey cunt questions a shared photo
Where they've seen my face.
Like when I was at school
I bunked off for the cricket
Caught on the telly at The Oval
Left me on a sticky wicket.
The 'moral' to this poem
Is despite me spreading germs
If you really must take a 'sickie'
Make sure it's on your own terms!

Dulwich Poet 18th March 2016.

(This poem is based on the fact that some people might prefer not to use sick leave when genuinely sick, but prefer to 'save' it for more 'needy' occasions! )

"Ripped Jeans"

Call me old-fashioned
But why are your jeans torn?
I'd expect a hefty discount
Before they've even been worn!
Yet you pay a little extra
Just because they look nice
Not that I'd ever wear jeans
For whatever was your price.
You can keep your Wranglers & Levi's
I'm not a labels man
I'm a bog-standard 'fashionista'
Proud to be a Primark man.
They might not be as good quality
But if they're ripped I'm the one to blame
I'll simply pop back to Primark
And shell out for the same again.
You might call it a false economy
And think I am a fool
But my jeans cost the same as your fancy craft beer
So who's the fucking tool?

Dulwich Poet 8th March 2016

( I wrote this after someone opposite me was wearing one of those 'fashionable' pairs of jeans, where you buy them with already made rips in them)