THE EGG
(A Tribute to Rishi's Phobia)
I hid his egg, I did, that’s all
I didn’t wish his family dead
Or take his wife behind the shed
Committed not an act of murder
Just took an egg from his beef burger
Whilst Rishi left us for the Gents
His dinner sat in quiet suspense
I felt the urge, a schoolboy prank
As he filled up the septic tank
And there it shone fresh from the fry
It taunted me, it caught my eye
The chance was on, I can’t resist
So feeling bold and somewhat pissed
I reached across, removed the lid
And under napkin swiftly hid
The Egg; not touched by hand or skin
And still ok for mouth, not bin
Now wasn’t part of Rishi’s dinner
I felt just like a Derby Winner
And right on cue, for he approached
Licking lips for fried, not poached
He eyed the burger, chomped some chips
And that is when we fell to bits
But also how these friends found out
And we were left in little doubt
That Persad had a huge pet hate
You’d rather die than touch his plate
Or worse than that, play with his food
It’s so much more than simply rude
His face turned beige, a time to row
He shook and sweat formed on his brow
As silence fell upon our table
He tried to speak but wasn’t able
When finally these words came out
“My fucking Egg’s gone walk about”
The wrath was plain for all to see
When I owned up I’d spoiled his tea
But sorry wasn’t good enough
The hardest word had found the rough
It didn’t work, it fell far short
It looked like I’d end up in court
He ranted, shouted, threw a strop
He frothed, he raged, he couldn’t stop
His fists upset the salt and pepper
Hitler couldn’t do it better
Well five years on, all’s not forgotten
My stock’s still closer to the bottom
I’m barely counted as a friend
He’ll take it with him to the end
That night when I had crossed his line
That night when all in life was fine
Till fuelled with almost half a keg
I chose to hide that sodding egg
©Henry Birtles