By Alfie Hardman
I got robbed.
Sippin’ on a few budget brandy’s and cokes,
you decided to make a move.
Slippin’ out without paying,
barging dancers out the way with your off groove.
Pulling up your mits while darting your eyes about,
stepping outside the pub, bleary eyed no doubt.
You see the light splattered pavement puddles,
staggering off the ledge, your seeing doubles.
Swanning past the lamps with a lowered head,
remembering theres that rouge dog, lying in your bed.
Then you saw the shabby VW,
its battered and old but that don’t bother you.
With a lil’ nonchalance, as you never say,
you walked towards it, pulling all the car handles on your way.
Yeeeeeaaaaah… one last try then you call it a day.
Your briefly pray that, that dog ain’t shat in your bed,
not remembering what that person from Battersea had said.
Something about the beast …
hold on… this persons left their..!
You immediately snatch that grey rucksack,
trying to hold your excitement back.
You lean over the passenger seat,
showing the deserted street the top of your crack.
Feeling whats insides… a laptop,
“naw dis, I ain’t gunna drop…”
With a grin you quickly scathe the car for more,
I guess you felt like you could kiss that dodgy car door.
Frantically you flip our things up, down and over,
while frequently looking over your left hand shoulder.
You grab Annie’s purse and coat,
leaving it all in a total mess as if to gloat.
No one on the street even offers you a glance,
you can’t believe your luck, its as if everyone’s in a trance.
Turning the corner and walking into your neglected home,
“This ol’ dogs still got some tricks.”
Yeah sure… you f****** chiwawa with a bone.
You still feel a little sketchy so you go to your room,
forgetting about the real dog, lurking in the gloom.
Opening the door with the same nonchalance.
The thing doesn’t hesitate and leaps up.
And tears you apart. Bit. By. Bit. and Bite. By. Bite.
Swaying you about the room, your screaming out load.
But people don’t help in Acton do we.
Nah we ain’t that kinda crowd.
Well… that part of the story didn’t happen. It might have done but I doubt it. Other than D&AD its been the only thing to distract me from this robbery.
So if it seems I’m walling too much in my own pity…
You can be rest assured I am,
because sometimes I f****** hate this city.
The copy scores 87.9 in the Flesch Reading Ease test