*Kat and Alfie won the lottery
last night, celebrating with tear
and cheer, and poor old Laurel
drank too much, threw up,
then promptly killed the family tree.
Luckless David ran away,
and Andy, or Gavin as he was,
became best man to a father,
he'll never know . . .
as for Dot? . . . God definitely knows . . .
Relations are brought into being
at the stroke of a pen,
scripted for impoverished lives,
we get our nightly dose,
buttered on either side with ads:
laudanum for the mesmerised,
mind candy for the obsessively obese.
Oh yeah . . . I nearly forgot.
Our next door neighbour was found dead
when the bailiffs called. Apparently,
she had forgotten to put the water bill
on a direct debit drip.
Old dears can be forgetful . . . can't they?
© niall oconnor 2015