Today I learned I’d sprinkled insults round
Like confetti at Thursday night’s works drink
Of what I said, no memory can be found
In my own head, but it has made me think
And worry that my brain went on the blink
For several hours. Once more, the alcohol
Has revealed its deadly poisonous sting
Let’s hope it hasn’t dug for me a hole
Just yet, anyway. And, watching football
On Saturday night, I once more felt bound
To get wine in. I could stay in the pink
Without it, or become red-faced like all
The other useless boozers, run aground
Like Whisky Galore, gored, ready to sink
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