Fifty Fu**ing Two

Fifty Fu**ing Two

Well how do you do?

I'm fifty fucking two

I've never been this age before so I don't know what to do.

Do I belch and fart and frown in my Jim Royle dressing gown?

Do I scare everyone by wearing a smile round town?

"I'm sorry I didn't recognise you there

That really is quite a grimace upon your face"

I'm maturing like a fine wine, more a mouldy old cheese.

"Excuse me please, would you hold this, I'm going to sneeze".

So how do I explain this to the police?

Look Officer, it's a special day for me today and with that the whole station and canteen sang Happy Birthday.

As they pushed me in the cell and got the fat lad to sit on me,

 Gawd what was that smell?

Pizza and Curry fermenting in PC69s belly.

As they kicked me out and cuffed me on the ear and warned me not to read the Cambrian News and drink any more beer, I stumbled home in a state of fear.

Attenborough's Blue Planet made me realise

that I was just a speck of shit upon it.

A light came from behind the curtain, was it the cat I couldn't be certain, my eyes were still blurry from all the crying I'd done but no it was God who said

 "now stop this nonsense son".

I replied 

"Don't let Jesus hear you talking like that"

(being choppsy to God) 

 and then it dawned on me that I was the only begotten one,

 the bad poet, the no hoper from Grangetown,

 I was Joseph and Mary's currant bun.

But no, the Psychiatrist told me in no uncertain terms, 

to keep taking the tablets or I'd end up with worms.

To be balls pizzled frank I didn't like his terms.

So dear reader and shark lover this ode is dedicated to you

For sticking with me through and through

It's an honour to have you share my dotage and look I've saved you the postage.

Happy Birthday to me from you!