Nightclub Queue

Standing near the front of the queue The boy rehearses his lines "Just three or four pints" Over and over again in his head Focussing on every step That takes him to the inquisitor Stray too far to the left or right And there's no way back Behind him, the underage drinker Tries his best to blend in Three years underage but Looking sharp in his best togs "Play it cool," he says to himself But the doubts creep in As butterflies mingle with The Merrydown in his gut Further back, a girl peers Into her make-up mirror As she tries to remove the traces of vomit From that alleyway spew The icy wind drags its nails Through her ample bare skin But it fails to break her concentration There's drinking to be had The guy behind can't help but admire As she bends over to dab Chilli sauce off her high heels With a Johnson's baby wipe With girls like this around He will surely add another Notch to his bedpost By the breaking of the light A more miserable night beckons For the punter round the corner As a half-empty bottle of beer Smashes full in his face As the perpetrator takes flight With an impressive turn of pace His victim crashes to the ground And awaits the siren's call