The Bliss of the Hereafter

The day after the bike-athon

After the half-marathon

That’s when you’ll find me

No designated cycleway

No promise of a sunny day

That’s all behind me

I need Betjeman pills

I’ve been summoned by bills

Comedy, tragedy, neither much appeal to me

Nor pathos or farce

Trying to get a trestle table

Back off Beth Tweddle

Such a pain in the arse

I use obvious rhyme

When I haven’t much time

One fine day in the middle of the night

One fine day I will pedal out of sight

To the safety of familiar things

I look to throw a grappling hook

It always falls short

Whitbread big head Trophy Bitter

The pint that thinks it’s a quart

I’ve done ten thousand steps

I’ve reached Stygian depths

One fine day while you’re gassin’ at the gate

There’ll be bubbles on the surface of the Bering Strait

Happy time!

One fine day as I pedal out of sight

One fine day in the middle of the night

There’ll be bubbles on the surface of the Bering Strait

Bubbles on the surface of the Bering Strait

Bubbles on the surface of the Bering Strait

Bubbles on the surface of the Bering Strait

(Whitbread big head Trophy Bitter)

Bubbles on the surface of the Bering Strait

(Whitbread big head Trophy Bitter)

Bubbles on the surface of the Bering Strait

(Whitbread big head Trophy Bitter)

Bubbles on the surface of the Bering Strait

The pint that thinks it’s a quart