LEEK IN THE HOLE.

It has to be said,
And it has to be writ,
I’m one of those people
Who smell vaguely of shit.
It’s down to my arse,
It’s up in the hole,
There’s something not right
With my sphincter wall.

I’m itching all day,
And scratching all night,
And when I wake up
There’s evidence of shite.
So I’m straight in the shower,
And then in the tub,
But the smell’s always there
However I scrub.

So I work in the office
In expensive cologne,
Knowing full well
That my stink lingers on.
We open the windows,
And all laugh and joke,
And blame the old factory
Outside blowing smoke.

But I know that they know,
And they know that I do,
So I pretend to fetch coffee
And nip into the loo.
But it’s never enough,
And by five I am ripe,
Regardless of drink runs
Or how hard I wipe.

So I head home alone
With my face falling down,
And call up my lady
And ask her to come round.
She brings all her gear,
Her Amsterdam porn,
Two bottles of poppers
And a twelve inch strap-on.