Brian was drunk, sat alone down The Bull,
when Jazza rolled in and pulled up a stool:
‘Hey Brian, you ok? Fancy a bevvy session?
It’ll help relieve your current depression.’
Sunrise on Sunday can be sooo boring,
PC Burns lamented whilst street-patrolling,
but then he drove by a dreadful thing,
Brian Aldridge, there, asleep on The Green.
‘Move along Mr Aldridge, you are quite drunk,
you appear to have thrown up yesterday’s lunch.’
Brian pulled out a wedge of bung-thick cash,
which Burns deftly pocketed for his wedding bash.
Jazzer awoke to Fallon’s soft snoring,
she was lost in her dreams about decorating.
He slipped from the bed, feeling quite naughty,
knowing her beloved would be home shortly.
Once more Brian woke, this time to a kiss,
from Linda’s new dog, right on the lips.
He stood and stretched his ancient frame,
Linda retreated, taking off down the lane.
‘Brian you’re a mess,’ Jennifer hissed,
as he climbed into bed, still quite pissed:
‘Ha! You should see the state of The Green,
the Environment Agency has even more to clean.’