Monday, 4 March 2013

Kubla Khan's Bar and Grill

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately bar and grill decree:
Where rum, the sacred spirit, ran
In cocktails measureless to man
For it was buy one get one free.
Twice five miles of dancing floor
With burly bouncers on the door:
And here were girls with luminous tans,
Where blossomed many a streaky flank;
And here, disgorged from minivans,
Stag dos – the men the size of tanks.
But oh! that well stocked bar which slanted
Down the dark club, slick with sweat!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er a KFC was haunted
By men who'd not found Nando's yet.
And from this nightclub, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
With shouts and groans and loud dramatic heaving,
A mighty vomit stream was forced –
He'd battled shots and come off worse.
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail:
He was kicked out then, wan and pale.
The sheer amount left us impressed.
(A barman came to clean the mess.)
Five miles we walked with a mazy motion:
How long the queue for drinks now ran!
The queue for drinks measureless to man,
The guy in front requests an ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Deep drunken voices threatening war!
For Dave had spilt the pint of Darren
And Kate had pilfered all his straights.
So now his baccy tin was barren
And his confusion turned to hate.
A miracle of rare device,
To order ale that's served with ice!
The moron in the DJ booth
In the corner, and in truth
He mixed bizarre the beats he laid
And on his sub-woofer he played
Such songs as drove us to the roof.
And smoked we there twixt bins and sea gulls
Our shoes stuck fast in unknown brine.
We watched flesh push through ruptured hulls
Of frocks now stained with tears and wine.
And look! the local letch is here!
His arms are like an octopus!
And look! he's had six pints beer,
The girls all cry, Beware! Beware!
His wandering hands, his creepy stare!
Weave a circle round him too,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he hath on Sambucca fed,
And drunk the milk of Malibu.

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