Here's A Poem About My Day

Insult of the day: He's comparable to professional soccer players, man - the hands of Taibi, the brains of Djemba-Djemba, the face of Chadwick. Except for his legs. They're like Christopher Reeve's.

I took the bus to work today
Its service number was one-eight-zero
A dollar forty cents I had to pay
If only I could pay as much to get to Soho

My mind travelled to far-off places
To 5th century Long Beach, and my friend's new braces
To Texas, Land Of Political Cock-Up
To the toilet last night, with a little rub-a-dub-dub

And soon I was engulfed in the least robust of boredom
If boredom was robust, it wouldn't be boring
The only thing to do was to visit Morpheus' Kingdom
I hope, for the sake of those around me, that I wouldn't be snoring

I dreamt of chocolates, and women too
Kate Beckinsale and Kelly Hu
They walked towards me in a way that men shouldn't
And smiled at me in a way that got me all wooden

And then I woke up and to my horror
I was at a depot, far from my destination
A waste of forty cents plus a dollar
A situation that has devolved into an abomination

The bus driver realised that I was there only then
He said, "Aiyooooo! Jia lat jia lat. I did not see you hor."
Just read the words in English if you do not comprehend
And in 'hor', we don't mean 'whore', you boar

So I dropped and I flagged a cab
I reached camp an hour late
But noone in camp was keeping tab
I foxed my way through those gates

Read this now in a crisp, sophisticated English accent:
Nyeh. Nyeh. Nyeh.