Used and Abused

With apologies to, well, everyone. You really probably shouldn't read this either on a full stomach or an empty one. It's 3 in the morning, and I can't sleep. Again. And I can't use work as my excuse this time. The news is showing endless loops of drunks in public places, private parties, and excruciatingly humiliating themselves. It's led to some sort of worrying muse. However - I have to say, hats off to the boys and girls who man (sorry) the Booze Bus. I don't know how you do it.

*****

The Season has begun.
You know what must be done.
You must go to the office do,
And start off at a run.

To drink all that you can,
Will show you're such a man.
It's just the greatest thing to do,
From pint, to glass to can.

You'll vomit like a tap,
Wake up and feel crap.
Won't remember a single thing,
Was it worth it, dear chap?

No connection - brain to feet,
You'll fall down in the street.
They'll call for you an ambulance,
That has someone else to treat.

You really couldn't care,
Whether it should be there.
The ambulance is there for you,
So your vomit you can share.

We'll cart you in the back,
You'll shower us with flack.
Both words and stomach contents,
A hurtling attack.

You'll wake in A&E,
Desperate for a wee,
And do it in the cubicle,
"The bog's too far for me!"

That's how you'll end your night,
In bright fluorescent light.
A black mark on your record,
And your friends nowhere in sight.

And the crew that you abused?
They're feeling somewhat bruised.
We really have much better things,
For which we should be used.