It was Lou and Pru and Daisy and Sue
All snug as a bug in a rug in the pub, safe and warm by the fire,
With a card-game to win, and a nice little gin,
Just as heart could desire.

But when girls sit together, there’s always some blokes
Who just can’t let them be.
So it starts with the jokes,
Then the leers, and the sneers, and the breath full of beers,
And hands wandering free,
And the loud, raucous laughter.
“So what are you up to, girls? Is it a hen-night?
We know what you’re after!
It’s a looking for men night,
When girls go pubbing!”

Pru grabbed a fire-iron from the rack,
She hit his shins with such a crack,
Then clocked him on the head.
“Nah, it’s girls’ poker night,” she said,
“We’re going clubbing!”

We used to give a hip hurray
but now we don't,

Friday's not the same
no work to moan about
no bosses to blame
Friday's
just another day,

no pubbing
clubbing, no
rubbing my hands with glee when
she decides to dance with me,

there is nothing but the endless
the internet
Netflix
Ricky Gervais, and
'the infinite monkey cage'

But it's when you wake up in a lighthouse
that you know you're in Fraggle Rock.

Conflating your drama
For trauma
What isn’t
In this day and age
Just a for-profit prison?

Creating personas
Coronas
Who doesn’t
Go clubbing or pubbing
With someone who wasn’t?

Equating your other
Half-lover
When found
If indifference we all
Are made hole in the ground?