In bounds the surgeon, scalpel aloft, in baton salute to Michael Johnston,
I await, wired in rainbow colours, a delicious lobotomy,
He booms booms his hellos, a cheerful echo of a cake crumbed Brian Johnston
My my this will be a job!, mmm yes there is an awful lot of me.

I admire his impeccable attire, head to toe, a neo Don Johnston,
Any last wishes he cheerfully asks, perhaps a nice cup of tea?
He circles and wafts scent and soap, courtesy of Johnston & Johnston,
As I slowly and slowly drift off into hyper monotony.

© Rob perspiring-poet