Poetry corner

Portaloo Blues

By Godfrey Butterwings


There is no light at the end of the tunnel

It’s just dark and empty, like Sally Gunnel

Must have been feeling when she lost a race

Disappointment and gloom is something we all must face

As we grow older, we’re supposed to get wiser

But I’m just getting mean and more of a miser

My portaloo hiring business has gone down the pan

Now I’m about as much use as Han

Solo without Chewbacca, that great big

Grizzly man bear, much better than Leia, just couldn’t hack her

I’m broke cos nobody wants to hire my lavatories

Just drifting along in my life like Denise

Van Outen without a celebrity bash to attend

This is what I’m facing, with what I must contend

Oh! I wish I could be a wookie, carrying a space gun

And having fur, that would be brilliant, but life isn’t fair

Otherwise my portaloo business would be doing well

Mrs Butterwings would love me, my life would be swell

But now like the band I have one direction

I must get a cure for my erection dysfunction

There is no light at the end of the tunnel

It’s just dark and empty with no hope of redemption

2 Comments on “Poetry corner”

  1. Anonymous says:

    I am in total empathy with Mr Butterwing. It s a hard business to be in. Personally since entering a portaloo at the lunar eclipse in Hungary and finding a curler directly positioned upon the seat, I know have female erectile dysfunction and need to wear a head torch into the loo. Even if a skid is present I hyperventilate. I have since invented the snap on skid preventer for portaloo uses and a neon prod to push away random curlers. See http://www.curlandskidawayforhappinesss.co..poo.k

  2. dolphinbladder says:

    A fine website indeed full of useful poo-away implements. Curlers always come out at night, as they feel safer from detection and the lustful eyes of hungry predators. Skids should be tackled at once should they fester. Here at Monkeybroth Towers, we find a good solid wipe with some economy breaded ham works a treat and leaves your bowl smelling of long forgotten summer picnics with your parents….

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