Letter to a friend (Cosmic Wibble) about a bad kebab…

Damn and bugger the cruel hand of fate,
Which keeps me from my wibbley mate,
When I wrote to you last I was happy to be,
Well watered, laughing and a wee bit tipseee,
Snoop Dogg was here spinning selected tunes,
Which were vibrating through all of my four little rooms,

But then to my horror, and shock, and appall,
The kebab shop was closing and they had the gall,
To poison young ant in his prime laughing mood,
(I would like to add that it wasn’t even good food)
So stupid was I to walk in off the street,
At a time when they (packing up) had only bad meat,

So a night when my pillow was covered in sweat,
Commenced from 1.30 this morning my pet,
There was brave ant, crunched next to the wall,
Hurling obscenities at the pain of it all,
That would’ve shocked my mother, and even myself,
If only that kebab could have stayed on their shelf,

So serious was I, that doctor Cleopuss was called,
But not even she could prescribe anything at all,
Miaow Miaow Miaow Miaow Miaow, she said with unease,
(Translated) ‘if you could bend over the toilet again please’
So at the time when sweet wibble was ready to rise,
I was emptying the contents of a night on the tiles,

I still have a temperature, my dear cosmic bride,
My back hurts from throwing my head forward all night,
And I moan at my stomach which has yet to decide,
If its hungry, just tired, or yet to subside,
Cleo’s now moody and took a swipe at me head,
Oh when will ant’s torment finally come to an end?

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