A thousand germs all live in my keyboard;
A million germs crawl round my toilet bowl;
My breath spews germs out like a viral sword,
And the rest fester inside my arsehole.
My skin crawls with them on mornings I’ve stole
Without a shower off to work. Handles
Of toilet doors are evil, since the role
Of males is not to wash their hands; it feels
Too girly, or something. Meanwhile, when girls
Get thrush, that’s too much yeast down there they’ve stored.
In beer or Marmite, yes, it’s wonderful,
But I’m afraid I must give thrush the bird.
I wonder if Howard Hughes would applaud
This homage to germs? Poor little rich soul.
Fri 2 May 2008
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