Tescoland is out of headache smarties.
I’ve been drinking all day for days.
Here flood the New Years sales
to mop up consumerism’s strays.
‘It’s been great but glad to be back.
Don’t you start missing the routine!’
the office workers shuffle in and repeat.
I’m under my desk, hoping not to be seen.
‘Oh nothing. I’ve dropped some Blue-Tack.
I’ll be with you all very soon.’
I contemplate sucking my fingers
and poking a plug hole, for meetings loom.
Thank goodness, lunch-time’s arrived.
Here I stand before meal deals galore.
Three quid for a sarnie, drink and snack.
Problem being, I’ve been eating for four!
‘I’ll see you back there in five.
You go ahead. Don’t worry about me.’
I reassure them, skipping off to the pub
for a pint or two. No, make that three.
’Tony, you don’t seem yourself.
Is there anything I can do? What’s wrong?’
Where to start, I think. I miss gluttony
and you keep playing that Sam Smith song.