Sex & Drugs & Sausage Rolls, Yeah! by Paul Tristram

He brought another one back last night.
Cute as fuck, blonde dreadlocks,
little nose-ring, looked early twenties.
At ‘It’ like animals for hours,
it sounded like they were rowing
the fucking bed down the stairs at one point.
I saw the cunt today in the kitchen,
drinking his first beer at noon…
so I decided to ask him what his secret was.
He just shrugs and laughs (I hate him!)
“Whilst you’re all spending a small fortune
on clothes, shoes and hair gel,
splashing expensive crap
and spraying chemicals
all over yourselves to mask
your natural masculine scent.
Then trotting off to a poxy Nightclub,
waiting an hour in a freezing queue
to get into some poncy gaff,
where they charge extortionate prices
for piss-weak lager.
While dodgy fucking pop music
is blasting out of speakers
to strobe lighting…
then cave-man fighting 10 guys
over the nearest short skirt.
I take a can of beer
for a chilled-out midnight walk
over to the 24 hour garage
next to the Art College.
Where all the pretty ones, far from home,
who’ve spent the evening smoking dope
in rented flat-shares and bedsits
are buying snacks for their ‘Giggling Munchies’
No ‘Chat-up lines’ required…
I just mention the words
‘Homesickness’, ‘Kerouac’, ‘Picasso’
and ‘Yorkshire Terrier Puppies’
and ‘Bob’s Yer Uncle’ I’m ‘In Like Flynn’, yeah!”

legs 2
Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight; this too may pass, yet. Buy his books ‘Scribblings Of A Madman’ (Lit Fest Press) ‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at And a split poetry book ‘The Raven And The Vagabond Heart’ with Bethany W Pope at You can also read his poems and stories here!

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