They’ve done a runner; thank goodness they’re gone.

Let’s face it, they were a pain, all summer:

Every morning, their ugly mugs on view.

We remembered their sort from holidays:

Stripped to the waist, with their lobster tans,

Letting off steam until the small hours

And dumping all their rubbish when they left.

They puffed on stinking fags and terrorised

The local girls, where any still remained.

Individually, they could be pleasant:

Bored and bewildered, perhaps even scared.

There is much talk of torture and excess,

And most just legged it when our boys arrived.

September rolls on. It’s high season now.