Twatted Him Right ‘Round The Old Noggin by Paul Tristram

She used a warm saucepan off the cooker.
There was no ‘Ding!’
just a muffled, dull thud.
Like a coalscuttle
being lobbed onto a mattress.
There were faggots, peas
and mashed potatoes everywhere.
He didn’t even jump up
from his armchair by the fireplace.
Just sat there like a right pleb,
wiping onion gravy out of his eyes
and yelling pathetically
“What’s wrong with you, woman?
You’re like a lunatic about the place.
I haven’t done anything wrong.
I’m sick to the hind teeth
with all this kack all the time, mun.
You know she’s fresh widowed
and is grieving, for Christ Sake!
I only bumped into her once
on the cowing Main Road
as she got off the bus coming from bingo
and I was toddling home from darts.
It’s not like back in our day, see,
the streets ain’t sodding safe anymore,
what with all the heroin louts about.
Nancy up Pen-Y-Bryn
had her handbag snatched last Christmas.
I only walked her home 3 streets, I swear.
Only I don’t know why you’re so bothered?
we’ve been sleeping in separate bedrooms
since you started going grey.
And you’ve been dying that hair of yours
nigh on two long, lonely decades!”

Scribblings Of A Madman

Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight; this too may pass, yet. Buy his books ‘Scribblings Of A Madman’ (Lit Fest Press) ‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at And a split poetry book ‘The Raven And The Vagabond Heart’ with Bethany W Pope at You can also read his poems and stories here!

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