As usual, I'm late for the bus. But, I've made it eventually...
I came up with this poem while trying to get the whole number 5, then number 67, multiplied by the hours of sleep I'd had, divided by my real age... Thanks Niamh, my brain hurts...
Upstairs on the 66b
languid and lazy i gazed
a sign snagged my eye
It said - 'Plastic Wedding.'
I immediately imagined polymer nuptials
virgin Tina Tupperware betrothed
to studly Graham Guttering
A spluttering Reverend Bob Bakelite officiating
Polystyrene people sitting in pews
At the back,brooding Peter Polypropylene rues
the day he let that cute little lunchbox go
Vending cups confetti, tossed in the air
injection moulding -
the bridal bouquet Tina is holding.
the reception banquet a spread of inedible play food
plastic covered seats making every guests shuffle sound rude
wedding favours, in sandwich bags
(OK! magazine there to photograph the really plastic WAGs)
Tina and Graham, off hand in hand
wedded bliss, first kiss
A wipe clean wedding waltzing to the kazoo band.
(Of course it's a shame
that the sign really said
Plastic Welding instead.)