Poem -

The General Manager

The General Manager

Of Monatic Alba and then Pierre Cardin also ran,
peddling gilets and other such icons where it began;
we have a driver who will take you where you want,
sometimes you drive, never arrive, as much as you strive.

The German restaurant served eisbein (pigs head),
table no. thirteen was gauranteed to get you into bed;
but Norman's Grille served fat prawns dripping in garlic,
euphoric chaps, all is forgiven, maybe just for one day.

We drove with broads shrieking in the back comfy seat,
if you can't stand the kitchen, get out of the bloody heat;
of all the people I've had the real strangeness to meet, 
it was okay, bit of a hoot I suppose - just for one day.

I went away, when I returned he didn't want to know me,
we shook hands, maybe we were rich - just for oe day.

 

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