Predictive text? Whatever next,
A barman who’s a seer?
“You don’t want that – for your nightcap
You ought to have a beer.”

I’ll be in and out, without a doubt,
My bed all through the night.
If I mishap I’ll curse that chap,
I know this isn’t right.

“I’d like a malt, and crisps with salt,
Don’t tell me what to have.
You don’t know me, I’ll have to pee
I’m really not a chav.”

He looked gutted – then he tutted,
“Why not try a lager?
And with the brew, ‘specially for you
A quarter pounder burgher.”

“This will not do, you lack a clue
About the size of bladders.”
A quick rethink – forget the drink.
“A game of Snakes and Ladders?”