Well what were you thinking
Despite looking sparkling and nice
What do you expect for a pound
There always is a price.
Never mind Halloween
What a load of shite
Better to use your inflammable wig
For the Guy on Bonfire Night.
Just in case you never saw the warning
I hope safety's not in their hands as well
If you bought a fire extinguisher for a pound
Good luck you'll burn in hell.
I really don't understand people
Who expect quality for a quid
I only expect such gullibility
From a five-year-old little kid.
At least a child won't see
The top shelf stocked for leisure
Now they're selling a slim vibrator
To improve a ladies' sexual pleasure.
You've really got to be desperate
Except for 'Secret Santa' at the office
But don't give it to the one
You want to share that mistletoe kiss.
Regardless of your sex
For your fanny or up the arse
The nicest thing I can suggest
Is keep your money and walk past.
Don't believe that rubbish
About one size fits all
Spend your pound on hours of fun
With carrots from the market stall!
Dulwich Poet 27th October 2016
("Poundland recalls flammable Halloween wig" said a recent newspaper headline...well that's where this poem somehow originated! )
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