The world’s last barman pot - Heidi Murphy

I am the world’s last barman pot

Because I Googled it wrong.

My grammar makes the Oxbridge lot wince;

I am the Spoonerism, the four candles,

Either Ronnie (preferably the alive one),

The Stripper Sausage Dance, performed by Mrs. Malaprop.

I am the Millennium Bug,

The politician’s serpent promise,

I am all the fuck ups, the misdemeanours,

The Santa Claus lie,

An egg, laid by the Easter Bunny.

The chicken and the egg.

The hyperbolic immigration problem about to capsize the country.

I make the innuendo filled typo,

The backfiring PR campaign – I am Tom Cruise’s agent.

I write the ambiguous headlines:

‘protests try to ruin play, actors succeeded’

The adverts – ‘bikini models – both sexes needed’.

‘For those of you watching on black and white TV’

I can misquote whatever you need.

I am the world’s last barman pot.

Throw your cigarettes in me, you can’t smoke in here;

I ruined the atmosphere -

No more thick smog, piss and stale beer.

It’s boringly clean in here.

I am the last barman pot.

Not only do I deal drugs

But whilst you’re getting hooked on every flavour I got,

I can also pour you a shot.