Good morning Hangover! By Phil Pretheroe

Well good morning there, I'd ask how you are but I'm your hangover and I'm here like an unwanted scar! Thank me for your eyes burning, your head jumping and your stomach using the back of your tongue as a bungee that won't stop churning. Thank me for the way you're desperate for water but dreading standing up - you know I'll beat you back down and you'll only come unstuck. Oh you're turning over how clever! A cold bit of pillow to stop you feeling under the weather!

But like that shit stain on the bottom of your toilet I'll not be flushed away. I think I'll blow into your eyes and shout into your ears whilst pushing on that throbbing bladder, that's giving you the never-ending reminder that at some point now your gunna have to get up. Look in that mirror you're oh so pale! Hear me singing like the wind, you might want a gentle breeze but I'm blowing a fucking gale! When will this nightmare end? Well remember I'm your hangover and I'm round the fucking bend!

Drink that water and sip that tea - but I'll be back quicker than you can say, "It was only a quiet night why was I out till gone three?"

Oh the finger down the throat! Well how sophisticated of you, that's the way to stop me... I'll be back in a few minutes to re-rivet that intestine and stretch it out a few extra miles, is it never a wonder your a four-a-day man after a night on the tiles? Eat all you like, I don't care, this is morning my friend and I'm going nowhere! Feel that head pounding - I'll stir your brain like a pot of stew, aspirin or paracetamol? Who cares they're gunna be of no use to you!

Oh please, is playing with yourself really the best you can come up with? Actually, I will fuck off - but back with a vengeance here we go again! Like the piss on your shoes you wish I wasn't here - but I'm yours and you know it and it's gunna cost you dear!

Watch all the Channel Four you like it really doesn't matter! But can I just ask would you prefer the runs or the vomit or the bit that's just after that, where nothing comes out? It's my specialty you see it's what I seem to seek, you can taste that bile and last nights gin over the cheese and chips now twice digested and lodged behind your back teeth. Last night's a faded memory, wonder if your mates are the same? Your Saturday's a write off was this really the aim? Like the weeks and months before you all went out and thought you'd got it made,

when are you ever going to learn that I'm the price you've paid?...

Copyright ©2008  Phil Pretheroe

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