Saturday, 3 November 2007

Alf's Mum Pays A Visit

Dragged along by his wife to the theatre in town,
Alf sat back with a sceptical frown.
He didn't believe in those spirits at all,
Yet now he was here in the very front stall.

His hair well-coiffured, his shirt shouting loud,
The man on the stage cast his eye in the crowd.
It landed on Alf, whose face became red.
He avoided the gaze of the man who then said,

"There's somebody here in the very first row,
The sweet loving son of a woman named Mo.
The man Mo adores has a fat, hairy arse.
The message she sends is that all things must pass."

Alf's face transformed from deep crimson to white.
He turned and then ran from the theatre in fright.
For although his mum was full of platitudes,
Alf was just eight when she'd last seen him nude.


Arabella said...

I left my Beryl comment at Peril.

Murph said...

Love the Blog title Geoff. And your poem is the best Doris Stokes Poem I've ever read in my life.

You could go to a Streep Stalking site next... Contains Mild Meryl.

Here's a contribution:

Roger McGough
Sounds a bit like a Toff
He's more Dave than Yosser
And a bit of a Tosser

Geoff said...

Arabella - Thank you.

Murph - Roger is a national treasure, isn't he?