I sometimes hate my telephone:
Those calls from someone quite unknown,
Who says that you’ve been in a crash,
And now wants some or all your cash,
To pay for legal representation,
For some figment of their imagination.
Or those charities who make me homicidal,
…They want more money because they’re idle,
And can’t be arsed to find a new donor or two,
From whom some money they can screw!
Or why not change the power firm,
Who supplies the gas that keeps me warm.
I can save £s off my current bills you know,
…my temperature rises, frustrations grow!
And those pretending to be a bank,
If I lose everything, I’ve them to thank!
© Text Caro Ness 2016