"Burning bridges"

On my way home
(Well not strictly true,
I'm off to Crystal Palace
To see if I can get lucky
In the public toilets there.
But that's another story)
So I'm at London Bridge Station
Waiting for my platform to appear
Rather than being a naughty queer
Which is for later.
Up it flashes
Everyone mad dashes
When some 'ordinary'
Crypled Palarse fans
Come toward me
Along the walkway
Which could make my day
As I head to platform thirteen.
Sadly I don't know
Their final score.
I really want to ask them
As if an armchair bore
But I don't know their fate
So am unable to question
"What was the score, mate?"
Just in case
They'd pulled it back
From two nil down
And they'd see my displeasure
With my 'fuck off' frown.
What I really wanted
Is their defeat confirmed
So I could be right in their
'Sad All Over' face
And calmly inform them
"Good! fuck you..ya
Sad Palace cunt!"
In case you never guessed
I'm never really at my best
When confronted with
The sad, suburban
Middle class tossers!

Dulwich Poet 29th March 2013

(I noticed that Crystal Palace were losing 2-0 at home to Birmingham City, which was on the television, in the background, of a pub I was in, when I left, before the end of the game. In case you are wondering...they ended up losing 4-0!)