[John Whitworth]

Bill Greenwell was our only representative this week, but, as ever, a worthy one. This week calls for verse. Goody!

No. 2696: The morning after
You are invited to submit a dialogue in verse between two body parts composed on the occasion of a hangover (16 lines maximum). Please email entries, where possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 11 May.

[FOsen]

Okay, but shouldn't she have put a comma after the word "parts"?

Frank

[John Whitworth]

Yes I think she should. Standards are slipping everywhere.

[FOsen]

Quite late, the morning-after, Common Sense
regains the floor and moves a resolution:
"Resolved, this Body henceforth drinks no more!"
The Hand that poured, now shakily relents;
the chastened Wits agree in mute confusion;
the turncoat Tongue and reddened Eyes implore
concurrence. As the motion carries, cheers
and ringing sounds continue in the Ears.

Amid the din, none note a braying snore,
nor see, collapsed in perfect dissolution,
the instigator of their late offense,
who led the party-of-the-night-before.
He sleeps this session through without intrusion;
aware these worthies often jump the fence,
his slumber is untroubled. As Desire,
he'll speak tonight, though—and he'll be on fire.

Frank

[Ann Drysdale]

Oooh - naughty. But nice.

[Maryann Corbett]

I love it, Frank!

[Susan McLean]

I like it, too. It may not be a dialogue between two body parts, but I predict that it will find a home somewhere, if not at the Speccie.

Susan

[John Whitworth]

In the old days this would have been between the Body and the Soul.

A Hangover Dialogue between the Stomach and the Brain

Last night you drank a bit, more than a bit.
This morning I’m the living proof of it.
The whisky and the wine slipped by like silk
But now, by God, I wish you’d stuck to milk.

Come, stiffen up, you wreck. Attend to me:
There is a tried and trusted remedy.
The genuine Prairie Oyster – guaranteed
To succour drunkards in their hour of need:

Splinters of glass to mark the final fall,
Long stalactites of vomit on the wall,
Puddles of nameless oozings by the bed
And everywhere a pain. Much better dead.

Now drink it off just so, with lots of water.
Zowie! Shazam! Go kiss your wife and daughter,
Pack up your briefcase, get yourself to work
And next time… next time don’t be such a jerk.

[FOsen]

Dammit, John - I should know better, but S3L2 made me snort hot coffee through my nose. Now, maybe a dialogue between the nostril and the funnybone?

[John Whitworth]

Thank you, Frank. Praise from a master is very well received.