Pringles' Bladder
Pringles' Bladder
You know what it's like
Enjoying a beer
The company of mates
Cracking atmosphere
It's a great first pint
You knock it back
And get another in
Whilst enjoying the craic
The drinks just flow
As the night goes on
Round after round
Has been and gone
But your bladder is filling
With the fifth drink
But a trip to the toilet
Not as easy as you think
Your brain seems woolly
From alcohol absorption
Your route to the bog
To be planned with caution
What seemed like a
Simple path before
Now has moving obstacles
Littering the floor
Trip to the gents
Is more like frogger
Chances for wipeouts
If you linger for longer
You duck and dive
To carve a way through
Cheers mate, thanks pal
Being polite as you do
Touching the shoulders
Of those you pass
You feel your piss coming
And coming fast
You need to get there
And avoid deviation
Your bladder is hurting
From over inflation
Past the last hurdle
On the home straight
A satisfying piss
Soon be your fate
There's eight feet to go
The end is in sight
An old boy pushes past
Story of the night
He's in through the door
And at the urinal
No more are empty
That was the final
You look at the cubicles
Count the doors
One is occupied
That leaves three more
You hear a strange noise
Wonder what's the fuss
You see someone drink
Driving the porcelain bus
Coughing and spluttering
All over the road
Spilling the contents
Of a stomachs full load
All over the toilet
And onto the floor
Some even splattering
All up the bog door
You try the next stall
To see if it's better
There's piss on the floor
An otters pockets wetter
The last one you try
You think this is it
But alas some dickhead
Has sprayed it with shit
They've made a right mess
White porcelain is sparse
With a garden sprinkler
Attached to their arse
What to do now
You need to think
A quick look around
Reveals three sinks
Three white shiny
Waist high recepticals
With a nice rim
For resting your testicles
You unzip your flies
Pull out your cock
It touches the porcelain
The cold is a shock
It wants to shrivel up
Not come out to play
But you need a piss
Not a fucking delay
Your bladder gives in
And you need to go
Comedy bulge on your cock
As the piss starts to flow
It comes out fast
Like a gushing tap
It’s rushes round the sink
Some splashes on your lap
But that doesn’t matter
‘Cos you feel great
But another punter
Looks fucking irate
The embarrassment starts
A mid-piss hiatus
Doesn’t last long
Seems fucking ages
You finish at last
Give the old man a wiggle
And a bit of a shake
To drain the last dribble
Pull up your zip
Rinse round the sink
Back to you mates
‘Cos you need a drink
And now you’ve been once
You know you can’t stop
‘Cos just like pringles
You’re fucked once you’ve ‘popped'
Mr Dean Carroll
Tue 17th Mar 2015 05:38
Very witty piece. The poem flowed well and the subject is indicative of any Saturday night in the boozer. Been there myself.cheers