30 Poems: Day Twenty-Two


I have a not-so-secret passion for bingo. Just looking at the books above makes me want to grab my dabber and head to the nearest football club. We are a strange lot us bingo maniacs. Outsiders do not understand.

Today I attempt to address that lack of understanding with a silly little piece composed of bingo calls and games.

After-all, how can you not love a game where the number 76 is called as “seven and six: was she worth it?”!


She took her legs (they’re beautiful)

to give him the key of the door.

He paid 2 and 6 for bed and breakfast,

at the end of the Brighton line.

He shared with the football team,

and three little ducks.

While he pondered whether she was worth 7 and 6,

she pointed out that she liked it anyway up,

and that she had one dirty knee.

He was so excited he nearly hit the

top of the shop.

He wondered if, for the price,

he could also get two fat ladies,

and a NAAFI sandwich.

If not, he would don the Union Jack

and complain to Downing Street.

He had to admit, that despite being unlucky for some

she was a fisherman’s dream.

So he plunged in for a late-night final.

He just prayed

that she wouldn’t bogie…


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