( Sadly, the M bar is now defunct. Perhaps this poem can serve as its memorial. )
I like the MBar, as a rule,
And often go to watch the pool.
The atmosphere is laced with smoke,
I sometimes wish to puke and choke,
But as I sit and sup a beer
I revel in the goodly cheer.
“Smack the red”, comes from the dark
“Do it gently” mutters Mark
“Otherwise you’ll hit the pack
And very likely pot the black.”
“No it won’t, I’ll pass it wide
If I give it lots of side.”
“Bollocks!” Mumbles Jerry who
Then stumbles off towards the loo.
“An idiotic shot” cries Mick,
“You struck the red ball far too thick.”
“I need to borrow someone’s specs.”
Says Paula, who’s discussing sex
And it’s effect upon the eyes
Of those who over-exercise.
“Here! Take mine.” Says Randy Jack,
“My 20 /20 vision’s back.
Ever since I sprained my wrist
I cannot be an onanist.”
I grin and take another swig.
Then Terry makes a subtle dig
On a mini-Porsche, “fit” for Dean,
And Bobby, laughing, misses green.
Reg, ex-Snoopy’s, has a moan.
He thinks he’s overpaid his phone.
So Scottish George starts to explain
Just how to put it right again.
But “Happy” George does not agree
And counter-argues vehemently.
Both seek support from Locksmith Lee.
Who demurs most diplomatically.
In her corner, Lisa lurks
Listening to all the burks.
She’s there because she’s “jumped her bail”.
She should be in the Rusty Nail.
“I could put in ingle-nooks.”
Says Ray, the builder, as he looks,
While Dave, “the music”, claims he could
Renovate the place, in wood.
I listen to the players wrangle.
“That’s at far too thin an angle;
Double it to bottom left.”
“Don’t be daft, he ain’t that deft.”
.. And so it goes, ‘til late at night.
I like the MBar: It’s alright!