Pub Brawl Poem by jerry hughes

'Wat'cha lookin' at?
I'd had enough of this loud mouthed lout,
and his pissed-out-of-mind billigerence;
So my repartee needed to be swift:
'I'll tell you what I'm looking at, a brainless,
boring, inarticulate piece of excrement.'

He slurred a reply sounding something like
'Yar lookin' for a punshup arshole? '
My calm reply, 'I don't fight mentally fragile
cretins - go away! '

Gathering himself to a swaying target
he lurched at me arms flailing -
'I'll do yar, yar barshtard.'

Instinctively I side-stepped and kicked
him up the arse, propelling him through
the swinging doors into the street.

The last I saw of him - he was propped
by an upright mumbling, 'barshtard took
me on cos I were pished - I'll doimlikea
dinnaneshtime.'

'Sorry pal, ' there won't be a neshtime.'