Poetic Justice

By Patrick Nafzger

I have recognised injustice and indeed experienced it regarding banks, politicians and certain other corporate organisations and vented my anger and frustration in my written work. This book contains adult humour, global issues, friends, family and relationships. It also holds a particular interest for historians.

I moved from London eight years ago and now reside in Pattaya City Thailand. Having experienced some very profound moments since I moved here, it seems appropriate that I included a section that covers my various escapades since I moved to pattaya. Suffice to say Thailand has a wealth of topics and subjects to write about. There have been hilarious and sometimes downright hairy situations. The bottom line is I live a far better quality of life here than I did in the United Kingdom.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483541310

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Page

Humour.

Meat pies

I can never believe my eyes.

At manufactures labels and lies.

Pictures on their packets Mm! Looks delicious.

But unfortunately track records make me suspicious.

The labels make you feel like eating it.

But there is never any fucking meat in it.

Take a Bird’s Eye view, don’t be too hasty.

Minced beef chicken or lamb, all wrapped up to look very tasty.

Oh yes with their additives there tasty enough.

That’s if you like Crispy, Choux, Flaky or Puff.

These meat pies make me want to fucking swear.

It’s just not fucking fair.

There’s no fucking meat it’s just fresh air.

Don’t these fucking manufacturers care?

How long can they get away with it?

I won’t eat I will just play with it.

Filling these meat pies full of shit?

As long as us gullible public tolerate it.

British public, speak up for yourself.

Maybe then manufacturers will put a meatier pie on the shelf.

Extracts from letters written to Local Councils

1. It’s the dog’s mess that I find hard to swallow.

2. I want some repairs done to my cooker as it has backfired and burnt my knob off..

3. I wish to complain that my father twisted his ankle very badly when he put his foot in the hole in his back passage.

4. Their 18 year old son is continually banging his balls against my fence.

5. I wish to report that tiles are missing from the outside toilet roof. I think it was bad wind the other day that blew them off..

6. My lavatory seat is cracked, where do I stand?

7. I am writing on behalf of my sink, which is coming away from the wall.

8. Will you please send someone to mend the garden path. My wife tripped and fell on it yesterday and now she is pregnant.

9. I request permission to remove my drawers in the kitchen.

10. 50% of the walls are damp, 50% have crumbling plaster, and 50% are just plain filthy.

11. I am still having problems with smoke in my new drawers.

12. The toilet is blocked and we cannot bath the children until it is cleared.

13. Will you please send a man to look at my water, it is a funny colour and not fit to drink.

14. Our lavatory seat is broken in half and now is in three pieces.

15. I want to complain about the farmer across the road. Every morning at 6am his cock wakes me up and it’s now getting too much for me.

16. The man next door has a large erection in the back garden, which is unsightly and dangerous.

17. Our kitchen floor is damp. We have two children and would like a third, so please send someone round to do something about it.

18. I am a single woman living in a downstairs flat and would you please do something about the noise made by the man on top of me every night.

19. Please send a man with the right tool to finish the job and satisfy my wife.

20. I have had the clerk of works down on the floor six times but I still have no satisfaction.

21. This is to let you know that our lavatory seat is broke and we can’t get BBC2.

22. My bush is really overgrown round the front and my back passage has fungus growing in it.

23. He’s got this huge tool that vibrates the whole house and I just can’t take it any more

Mark Lamarr. EX TV presenter.

The time has come for me to enter.

To expose this pathetic excuse of a T V presenter.

Your talent less existence you present only proves to represent.

The modicum of success you try to invent.

Your own short comings are enough to prevent.

You’re ever becoming a major event.

Of his family he must have been the runt.

He’s about as funny as Cancer and an ugly cunt.

He’s good at mocking and being blunt.

I heckled him once and came out in front.

On me he played an evil stunt.

I wish your Mother and father dead.

Are the exact words he said?

Born from an encounter at the Greenwich comedy venue up the creek.

When Laughs he feebly tried to seek.

My clever heckling got him well fired up.

Instead of entertaining he completely dried up.

Patrick Nafzger aged 65

Sean Connery aged 21

EXERCISE REGIME FOR PEOPLE OVER 50 Begin by standing on a comfortable surface, where you have plenty of room on each side. With a 5-lb potato bag in each hand, extend your arm straight out from your sides. Hold them there as long as you can. Try to reach a full minute, and then relax.

Each day you’ll find that you can hold this position for just a bit longer. After a couple of weeks, move up to 10-lb potato bags. Then try 50-lb potato bags, and then eventually, try to get to where you can lift a 100-lb potato bag in each hand and hold your arms straight for more than a full minute.

(I’m at this level.) After you feel confident at that level, put a potato in each bag.

Masturbation

Masturbation is an innocent thing.

Friction coupled with fantasizing.

When you’re feeling lonely, without a partner to light your fire.

Take yourself off to sexual desire.

You can always do it when you’re feeling randy.

But don’t forget to have some tissues handy.

Always lock your bedroom door,

Get stuck in, it’s what your right hands for.

Whether fully clothed or just in your socks!

It’s very healthy to empty your rocks.

It’s not the real thing but give it a try.

When the phone doesn’t ring? It will get you by.

Share and share alike

I’m armed to the teeth like a drone.

With my face book and mobile phone.

All you face book fanatics out there.

Like for like we sit and share.

I don’t want to appear rude.

But I’ve had enough with seeing your food.

You’ve obviously plenty of meat on your bone.

Obsessively posting from your mobile phone.

I can see you’re happy and contented.

By the amount of posts you’ve implemented.

Humour and interests I can handle.

But you’re coming from a different angle.

I can understand a few postings now and then.

Your name comes up, again and again and again.

Between the lines of your elaboration.

Do I detect a hint of desperation?

Are you a poster of the obsessive kind?

Your name keeps popping up, a pop up toaster springs to mind.

Do your five hundred friends really care?

Has no one got a life out there?

Text, whatever next?

You’re probably wondering why I look perplexed;

I have just been dumped by text.

Such a short message engraved on my mind,

Telling me to go away in kind.

No kisses, no smile,

But you had me going for a while.

It’s the things you don’t do that give me a clue.

No more messages from you are arriving.

I must confess that you couldn’t care less you probably dumped me while you were driving.

A message by text can be misconstrued.

When you’re being nice it can be taken as rude.

A lot can be read in a message by text.

I get the message…"Next.

Introducing JIM you won’t wonna mess with him.

A canine of the smartest kind he leaves all other dogs behind. Don’t be fooled by his cute little face he has out run greyhounds at an alarming pace.

You can’t teach him tricks he knows them all and once got the better of a ferocious Pit ball.

He clears high walls in leaps and bounds outsmarting all the other hounds.

He’s a wizard playing fetch the stick. He packs a powerful bite where Simon Cowells Squiddly and Diddly only lick. I’m not giving you any old flannel.

It was only last week him swam the channel.

He’s not just any old dog. He was brought up as an orphan by a wild hog.

So it’s not beware of the dog it’s beware of Jim. Squiddly and Diddly have got Jack Shit on him.

JIM

Stay focused. (Sixth sense)

I don’t want to be left on the shelf.

Once again opportunity has presented itself.

I met a girl and went all out to impress her.

Problem is with my eyes I’d undress her.

As my eyes begin to trigger.

I can’t help but admire her figure.

I consider myself fortunate for this encounter.

But as yet I have failed to mount her.

My actions at times are truly disgraceful.

She finds my leering eyes distasteful.

As much as I try and I’ve tried hard not to persist.

My lecherous eyes take over and I can’t resist.

When we talk I don’t look at her facial bits.

I end up staring at her tits.

Focusing on her body bits like a magnifying glass.

She walks away in disgust while I admire her arse. Her legs never end and reach up to her neck.

I can’t seem to keep my wandering eyes in check. Charming words I use as leverage.

But my eyes drift down to her perfect cleavage.

When her skirt rises I can’t believe my eyes.

To her no surprises as I zoom in on her thighs.

When my eyes have finished exploring.

My staring advances she keeps on ignoring.

She’s a shining example, full of erogenous pockets. Zones to sample as my eyes exit their sockets.

Night time draws in and it’s growing dark.

This for me is no walk in the park.

A cunning little plan enters my head.

If I could just sweet talk her into bed.

With curtains drawn and lights turned out.

What I now can’t see I can fantasize about.

Now she’s lying next to me.

Imagination runs wild for what my eyes can’t see.

As the frolicking commences let the games begin. My other four senses are about to kick in.

She’s now responding she’s not so tough.

I’m the master of blind man’s buff.

At last I’ve got this seduction nailed.

And all because my eyesight failed.

A few tender words we say to each other.

What we both want we are about to discover.

I’ve had enough of this talking.

Its pitch black I close my eyes and let my fingers do the walking.

Never have I relied so much.

As I relish in my sense of touch.

My sense of taste and my sense of smell.

They have both kicked in as well.

There’s a sixth sense I’d like to draw your attention to.

It’s Common sense that got me through.

The nice fuck it challenge.

If you can provide a bucket, some ice and water.

The masses are partaking, lambs to the slaughter.

I’ve got no ice and I can’t find a bucket in my shed.

But I’ve got an ice lolly so I’ll suck it instead.

That’s about as far as I can go for now.

As I follow the ice bucket trail.

Money doesn’t change hands as far as I can see.

Yet there doing it all for charity.

I’m not sure of the mechanics of this fun filled fad.

But everyone’s doing it so it can’t be all bad.

A bucket, ice, cold water and me;

I can’t say it fills me with glee.

A bucket, ice and water are a necessity.

So get it, fuck it I’ll suck it and see.

The Flasher

With my long grey Mac and no underwear.

Ladies you have no reason to stare.

Until I swish open my Mac, you’d better beware.

I’m exposing my meat and two veg to the open air.

Lock up your daughters I hear you shout.

You’ve every good reason when I’m about.

It’s the thrill I get there is no doubt.

I just can’t resist getting my Willie out.

Tackle displayed and my cock erect.

My exposure has the desired effect.

My privates revealed to the cold light of day.

As you here them cry ‘put it away’.

My urge is not to be discreet.

On a lonely corner or a crowded street.

I’ve a cock and two bollocks I’d like you to meet.

It’s an overwhelming impulse I can’t defeat.

I can come standing on my own two feet.

Instead I am left sitting on a prison cell seat.

I must quickly bring this poem to a closure.

I’ve just been nicked for indecent exposure.

Golf (Muscle Memory)

I’m a man with a stick and I’ve got to hit a little white ball.

But no matter how hard I try to hit it, it doesn’t go far at all.

What a stupid place to grow trees.

All I keep doing is hitting these.

Don’t forget; keep your head down.

On your back swing bring your shoulder round.

On the down swing follow through.

Who is he who keeps telling me what to do?

While he himself hasn’t got a clue.

Right don’t forget it’s all in the wrist.

Give me some slack, last night I was pissed.

So many body parts to twist turn and remember.

I play off of 10, I’m the great pretender.

You drive for show and you put for dough.

Fucking hell these greens are slow.

I’m playing bad today; I’m not using my own clubs and playing by different rules.

But you know what a bad workman says, he always blames his tools.

On golf courses all over the world there all singing the same old song.

I’ve been playing golf for thirty years and I’ve finally found out what I’ve been doing wrong.

UNJUST.

A beautiful woman entered my life with just all the attributes I yearned for.

This could be my future wife, a woman that men’s heads just turned for.

My ship had just come in and it was me that manned it.

But it took a disastrous course and that just wasn’t the way I planned it.

She was just much too demanding for things I just could not afford.

Just having her by my side for all to see was my just reward.

I must rid this woman from my brain and tell her just where to go.

Will I ever feel the same; until she’s gone I’ll just never know.

Her protruding nipples, slim waist and sweet tasting lower parts.

That’s all I ever think of; that’s just until the aggravation starts.

I want just this and I want just that? Does this woman ever stop spending?

If this unjust behaviour continues it’s in the bankruptcy courts I’ll be ending.

Protruding nipples, slim waist and sweet tasting lower parts just in my head are blending.

I’m off to the bank now it’s just some money I’ll be lending.