No matter how fantastic your party was, this poem in our humour section shares how – once everyone’s gone home – you just need to let it all hang out. Yes, everything.
After the guests leave
Well, that was fun, now! Wasn’t it just?
Eating and drinking and shooting the breeze
Partying blindly from morning to dusk
Consuming all victuals with casual ease.
When the last of them left over lingering goodbyes
As I looked at my watch and yawned a few times
And the last winter coat was pulled on just akimbo
I flicked the electrics to nix the door chimes.
The first thing I did was to switch off the light
Then stepped out of my elegant Jimmy Choo heels
Which though so snazzy are fiendishly tight
And put my phalanges through awful ordeals.
Next came my belt which though being a Versace
Has to be tight to pull in my abdomen
So when it comes off needs a bloody good scratchee
A slap and a massage with fingers a-romin’.
Now comes the best part most easily, by far
With a ping and a pop and a flip and a flop
It is that moment when off comes my bra
Not all that smart, but now it’s off I can’t stop.
Down come the tights, or the pantyhose even
Depending on whether you’re Brit or a Yankee
By this stage I don’t care if I look uneven
It’s late and I’m tired, boy – so no hanky panky.
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At last it is bedtime and as I just mentioned
I feel as sexy as a muddy drain cover
So don’t count on me for romantic intentions
But there’s always tomorrow when we’re fresh and recovered.
Excerpted from Suzan St Maur’s forthcoming book: “Mischieverse: rude humour that sort-of rhymes.”
© Suzan St Maur 2016-2017