Fresh

Bournemouth is an odd little place,

Especially in late september,

Clubs heave with wide-eyed youngsters,

Eager to explore what hedonistic delights,

This quaint seaside town has to offer.

Men on the cusp of adulthood,

Still wet behind the ears,

Seek to integrate with strangers of the opposite sex,

And be welcomed with open legs.

I remember when I was the same,

Youthful and fresh-penised,

Back then people had sevens and eights,

On the back of their sixth form hoodies.

We were all as naive as each other,

So in that way it was harmless,

Now it would be like shooting fish in a barrel,

And I've got one big-ass gun.

London's Riots

REMOVED DUE TO IGNORANCE ON MY BEHALF (and it was shit)

For Lucy and Berno

To be Christian,

Is a different experience,

A one with which I feel,

Intent and delirious.

Lucy and Berno,

Look so good together,

I feel like they've been,

Together forever,

And of course,

In time they will,

I hope they're loving,

I hope they're chilled,

I praise the groom,

I admire the bride,

And seeing these two married,

Fills me with pride.

NB I wrote this poem on my phone whilst very drunk at the couple's wedding reception, and performed it an hour later to them and the rest of the room as part of the reception's open mic session.