When the student nurses kicked us out
I tucked my white shirt collar in
a bright yellow crew-neck jersey.
Clarkie clocked the Common Room TV.
But what’ll we do with it anyway?
Well, I like The Avengers, he said,
you’ll watch documentaries on BBC2.
Always a quick answer, the sarky rejoinder
or a jibe at a piece of skirt’s expense
when we could be sharing soft, warm beds.
As the night guard hollered Hold on lads,
Clarkie claimed he’d bought the set
for a fiver off an SEN and was all for returning
to retrieve his cash. The guard phoned the police
and we ran as far as Max’s Hot Dog Stand.
I was weighing up onions, with or without,
when The Missing Link, aka
PC Robertson, felt my collar, turned me round.
A youth in a yellow jersey was seen….
I told Max later and hold the order.
The night guard looked me up and down,
shook his head, said his feller had his collar
inside, this one’s got his collar tucked out.
I checked and found that the man was right.
The Missing Link gibbered and jabbed
but the jig was up, there is a god
and at night he watches over good and bad
and knows you better than you know yourself.
Max was waiting with double onions
and mustard. It had been a night to savour.
I walked home with my head held higher
and switched on The Ascent of Man.