A Poem By A Man For Other Men And Women Who Are Feeling Similar Things As Him

In February or March, the exact month I forget,

A lockdown was announced. We were all terribly upset

Schools were closed and the pubs shut down, I considered the best method of suicide; to hang or to drown?

But nay bother, fear not, as we are the mighty Brits,

COVID-19 shall not get the better of our wits

For what is a little time spent indoors for me and you? We are the nation of tea, David Attenborough and the victors of World War Two We stocked up on essentials as the future seemed ominous As we feared the worse; that this virus would cause severe incontinence As shops turned to ghost towns and the shelves lay bare,

Every boy and man in the land feared what may happen to their hair

Bottled water from Waitrose seemed to disappear into the abyss

I wondered if I should go full Bear Grylls, and drink my own piss?

But as days turn to weeks and the months drag out longer,

Isolation has asked important questions that we must ponder…

What was life before TikTok? Did I ever really wear pants at work? Did Carole Baskin kill her husband? Course she did. Have you seen her fucking smirk?

Am I really this horny? Or am I just bored? Yeah deffo horny, I just got aroused thinking about the Norwegian word ‘fjord’

Am I able to make a decision, without someone tagging me in a challenge post? But I still don’t give a shit about ‘The song that makes you think about someone you miss the most’

What a great job the NHS are doing, we appreciate you A LOT! But whoever came up with the hashtag #ClapForOurCarers – needs to be shot.

We will need to be patient, after all, it is a virtue,

So stop driving to your mates or they’ll introduce a curfew

But alas brothers and sisters for one day we will return

The Insta slags will have their Pornstar Martini’s that they do so much yearn

We shall once again be reunited with family and mates,

We shall one day again pretend to give a shit about your dog, over meaningless Tinder dates

We shall party and drink, we shall dance the night away, How crazy to think that just before all this, Phillip Schofield ‘came out’ as gay? We shall be relieved of our desires and be rid of blue balls,

You’ll never again have to wank between meetings on endless Zoom calls

We shall pay homage to those lost, and take the proper time to mourn,

You will see each other again, you will hold you cousin’s new-born

These dark days will pass, and for that I am sure,

We shall one day all roam free, from the milkman to the humble street whore The cities will be filled, the restaurants and pubs shall bustle,

You’ll once again complain about your daily work commute hustle

This is not the end game; normal life shall restart Let’s just hope China removes bat from it’s a la carte

So let’s be kind to each other, and use our Great British Humour,

Send memes, share your dreams, keep calling your dad a fucking Boomer

But as this poem comes to an end, I need to be quite blunt

Stay at home, stay safe and don’t tag me in challenge posts, cunt.





By Sam Heathcote (matched with this guy on bumble, turns out he's quite funny)

© 2023 by Glorify. Proudly created with Wix.com

This site was designed with the
.com
website builder. Create your website today.
Start Now