Welcome One and All

A new blog every 30 seconds? Here's another.
(Pause)
And another.
(Pause)
And another. I'd better crack on before there's no internet left to write on.

Here's the good doctor's plan. Whenever I get a chance: daily, weekly, whathaveyou, I shall be commenting on the world around me. Often in verse. I shall be sharing with you the lifestyles of some of my close friends and people I have known, loved or loathed. 

And be advised, dear reader, that I reserve the right to change my mind at any time, revert to prose, water-colour or photographic likeness to express my boundless chagrin and generally mix it up, freestyle and get random. As I believe the youngsters say. 

Youngsters, pshaw. Cheeky wastrels the lot of them. In my day, if you talked back to your elders and betters in the way that kids speak today they'd have popped a cap in yo' ass. And rightly so. St. Listerine's was very tough for a private school. But matron was boffo with a 9mm. Taught us all a thing or two.

Anyway, let's get started.

Pull up a comfy something and enjoy.

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A Cause For Alarm

The woman upstairs is a nuisance.

Last night she set off the alarm

That signals a fire in the building,

That warns of unspeakable harm.

It was 2.17 in the morning,

A few hours before I arise,

And Carmina and I were enraptured

I was just diving into her thighs.

I was just doing something inventive

With a pressurised can of whipped cream.

And what made it all so much sweeter?

It was happening deep in a dream.

My fantastical self is a love-lord,

And Carmina was starting to scream.

I was egging her on with expletives

Yet this scream wasn't one of desire,

But the voice of a different siren,

The kind that alerts you to fire.

I woke with a start, my pyjamas

Were wrinkled and moist to the touch,

Steamy and gathered up under the arms

And dank in a bunch at the crotch.

So comfort and elegance weren't uppermost

At the moment I ran to the hall

To shut off the sound that assaulted my ears

And check on the safety of all.

I punched in the code on the wretched machine

With the red winking lights on the wall.

The silence was bliss, then I noticed the piss

That had started to run to the floor.

The reason was clear, I had registered fear:

That sound took me back to the war.

Just then at the top of the stairs was a voice,

Which timidly started to say,

"I really am sorry about all the noise,

My toaster gets carried away."

I don't know her name, but it's always the same,

A lousy excuse for the din.

I get so enflamed and I wish her ashamed

For the day that she woke up poor Grinn.

Then she gets to my floor, in the dim corridor

Stands a flustered old man, grey and thin,

A puddle of urine is lapping his feet,

His nightwear is soaked to the skin.

It is I, and I must be a miserable sight

She eyes me with pity but also a smirk,

The smug look of those who toast deep in the night

And don't have to get up for work.

I hate everything that she stands for, the cow,

Her dope-smoking boyfriend, her cat,

I've only got one thing to say to her now:

"I've shut myself out of my flat."