Poem: a lazy rant

A poem appeared on my Facebook feed this morning. It was called HOW MUCH I DISLIKE THE DAILY MAIL. The title appealed to me. I'm not fond of the paper either and I was drawn in by the big shouty letters.

It listed all the things the author would rather do than read The Daily Mail. I thought I would enjoy the poem, as I try not to read that particular paper unless I need to practise my anger management skills. 

The poem ended with the verse:

"Even if I were blind and it were the only thing in Braile,

I still would not read the Daily Mail."

Whoa! That's a bit much. My forehead was covered in cold perspiration, anxious thumping in my chest caused me to conclude that I would read the Daily Mail over nothing. 

I re-read the poem. 

It's a good job he wasn't offered a Guardian. 

I can think of a few.

Don't make me read the Guardian

It might hurt my pericardium

Or burst my myocardium

It would be like seeing the bogeyman.

Just don't make me read the Guardian.

And that is why I will never be a poet and will continue to rant in non-rhyming prose.