Locking up

I sagged so much I Slept,
And lost another phone,
on my favourite night bus,
on my way to home.

But it was almost 1am,
and I was not alone,
some dirty, cheeky thief,
stole my telephone.

The bastard got my wallet too,
and when I woke up close to 2,
I was alone and in the dark,
in the depot's bus car park.

It's only now I've realised,
what this really means,
it means I lost all my numbers,
In my drunken dreams.

In my drunken dreams, you say,
In your drunken dreams,
Everything goes upside down,
And the volume goes right up.

There we go, another ditty,
cos I'm bored and feeling shitty,
Locking up the office
Is crap and doesn't rhyme.

This poem is based on a true story and was inspired by:
sagging dolls

Word to your mothers. And to Roger McGough and Richard Gaylord Briley
I'm a big fan of his. Word to the Gaylord.
It would be helpful if people could e-mail me their phone numbers and messages of non-sympathy for another night bus incident.

I'd set the alarm on the phone, y'know, to try and wake me up.
Instead I should have got a big neon sign that said 'mug me'.

Also, night bus drivers aren't supposed to go upstairs when they reach the depot, cos it's dark and there are criminals about. Not just victims.

And hyperlinks are brilliant
as is this
this is quite good too
this is crap
woh, that was freaky wasn't it. Like, far out. It was like putting two mirrors in front of each other, and watching eterinity reflecting. Do it again. Go on do it again
Uh oh. I've probably just lost some respect from that link. I just wish I could see the look on your faces when you clicked that. The look of disgust, disgust at yourself for liking it. It's strange to think that friend and 'love rat' Tom Whittaker
is a fellow leeds fan, and therefore an ally of such people
Me