Telly Tantrums

I feel like I've been here before
I settle in to watch the score
"Take control - pass it back"
A man offside unnoticed

The clicker firmly in his lap
A change of strip - but still I clap
"Ref - are you blind" or some cheap crack
It whistles past the goalpost

I watch the buttocks heave and chaff
The taut hamstring of some young waif
Too spotty for a close-up shot
But good enough for dreaming

The clicker flicks to teletext
So much for better drama next
The game's not over - one half left
Can I be arsed to watch it?

I slumber on the sofa there
And watch through half-closed eyelids, stare
At some poor sod whose left to take
The penalty to win it

I feel a great affinity
With someone left, like him, to see
That all is not as it should be
That goalpost there is shrinking

The sights he'd set his heart upon
Of finding life within a song
The chanting now has all gone wrong
He's gone and missed the fucker

I watch with him the other side
Take of their shirts and grin with pride
At his mistake, he took control
But kicked it slightly wonky

I stand up slightly wobbly
And groping round about his knee
I snatch the clicker, take control
And swiftly turn it over

It wasn't nice - it wasn't kind
To take the glory from his mind
Illusion is just that you see
For when mist clears it's scary