I am an old krug, wiping
the drivel from my lips. I will not have
served my time idly: I will make it
up with my bookmaker. When I was
on the run, I won medals.
They wrote quick fiction with my
name on it. Eh? I'm an old con
artist. I was number one with the
sex pistols. They came to my court.
My wife was flagrant, mate:
as cool as a coconut. I put the
swagger in swag. Reach for the star.
My brain hasn't a cell left in it:
other way round with you. Oh
stands the pub clock at ten to three?
And is there curry still for tea?