Nobody Inn
For Nick Hodgson and Anna Goodall
Lives his life
in music video,
whistling through
guitar solos,
even though
he hates the songs.
No laughs
‘til pay day,
Comedy
is frustratingly
Oxbridge.
Lessons;
all academic,
backwards
burlesque.
Steps from
the dark
of the cinema
into the sun.
The underwear
of the girls
who work
in Starbucks
is collected
and burned.
Deservedly so.
Got a girlfriend
makes him
happy,
but not
as often
as he’d like.
Holding
his piss
‘til half-time,
play-off hopes
going down
the drain.
In the background
of many a photo
taken
by drunk girls
with anno
YINGLY
loud voices
on the 243.
The lager’s
losing
its bite.
Used to be
the names
of football teams
were sprayed
on to the wall.
He’s already sick
of Banksy;
he’s about
to see some more.