‘Waiter,’
I said, ‘I’d like to know
Why is the service here so slow?
I ordered lunch an hour ago.’‘Indeed,’ he
said, ‘it’s a disgrace.
It’s always dreadful in this place.
Of training staff, there is no trace.’
‘Waiter,’
I called, ‘this bread tastes old.
What’s more, the soup is rather cold.
A fly therein I do behold.’
‘It is the
best the chef can do.
I’d hide that fly if I were you
Or all the rest will want one too!’
‘Waiter,’
I cried, ‘this meal’s so small,
It’s hard to see the meat at all
- The veg’s infinitesimal.’
‘These
gastro pubs are cuisine’s shame.
It’s art, appearance, that’s
the game.
You should have dined before you came.’
‘Waiter,’
I screamed, ‘is this bill true,
Or all the debts of the EU?
I can’t believe this much is due.’
‘The
punters’ cash we have to gain
Within the brief time they remain.
- They never come back here
again.’
‘Waiter,’
I yelled, leaving the scene,
‘This pub’s the worst I’ve
ever seen!
I wish that I had never been!’
‘You and
those other punters, too
All think this place is run for you!
Sod off! -
- What’s
this, no tip’s in view.’
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