Party games and balloons
There were always three in a corner.
And if you were feeling a little bit frisky and naughty
you’d-one, large sausage in-betweens
two round ones for good measure.
Oh, there’d be a gaggle of giggles
just blowing it up. “Ha Ha Ha!”
Tying it between your two knobbly knees;
lewd behaviour when it was-
only halfway up was happy and normal
laughing-so-hard you’d start to wheeze.
And rasp like a dying fairground fish.
Snickering at jokes, jokes about crackers and nuts.
There’d be air ever so slightly released
to resemble an unconstrained fart
and this was just the start
of the seasonal jollies, Christmas, time brought.
Fishing out that half a sixpence
in a pudding laced with booze
and happier memories of mother and father
years and years, later played twister
falling gaily over with a loud cry, in love once again
tactless-innuendo was used in innocence
in the defence-of-some bursting, pomade bubbles.
It was all cheap and nasty,
but truly we loved it, balloons and all.
And when a balloon did accidentally burst
and grandmother clutched her robust chest
even the rats under the floorboards in the cellar
went “Ha Ha Ha!” it was all so Dickensian, so picturesque.