An old man
In the pub
Interrupted the sanctity of the booth
To say what a bad habit doing my hair was.
Mind your own beeswax.
I’m not saying anything about your seventeen earrings or your dandruff crumb,
And why would I?
You’re not the commentator of the pub John.
Oh look, John’s got something to say –
You’d probably look good in a stale chair,
Heavily breathing your yellow breath into the microphone.