Ladies and Gentlemen,
Mind the gap, remember your bags,
And please take care
To avoid the Stags.
Incongruous against York’s historic arches,
This party of lecherous reprobates marches
To platform 10.
Destination: Newcastle. Objectifying: women.
In smurf hats and shirts ill-fitted,
Inaccurately citing Churchill – my teeth gritted.
“We shall drink it on the beaches!
And on the LADing grounds!”
A pedant at heart my fury knows no bounds.
Clenched fists, I sit, amidst the strife,
(Coach B was once the Quiet Zone
And its existence I do silently bemoan)
As they list the problems with having: “The Wife”.
But no more.
Like Jackson I rise,
Ready to administer true pain
“Enough is enough.
I have had it
With these motherf*cking Stags
On a motherf*cking train.”