My Poetry: Time For A Check-Up

Don't fcuk, you'll die
Screams the clinic’s literature,
Don’t be shy get down
Once a week just to check
Why’s it is itching.
Don't self-diagnose
The internet cannot differ
Between one discharge or another
Just scare you into thinking
The very least you’ll need
Is another dose of penicillin
And a lecture on wrapping
Up when out beasting.
Have you thought of onanism?

All meat is the devil
Says the latest, medical reasoning,
Don't eat bacon
No, not even,
When the hangover rages
Into that dying morning,
It'll cancerfy your colon.
It’ll strangle your heart,
One day while you wait
At fast-food check-out line
So swap your steak for tofu,
Add Qourn to your pasta
And live way past your fifties
In pompous misery.

Drink water each day
At least two litres or you’ll die
Ignore the added fluride
Calcifing your brain,
You won't need it where ya going.
Rub your balls monthly,
The telly quack's always saying,
But just a little -
More than five minutes too sexy,
In public it’s rude.
Besides the vicar told me
It’d drop off if not careful
And hell doesn't have
A free NHS,
Just a white coat with big hands
Who'll tell you to cough
Before inspecting your rectum.

Because you’re almost forty
It’s time for a check-up
Fornicating too much
Been drunk all last month
Eating red meat like its fashionable
Not seen your berries
Since the belly extended.
But don’t worry, I once read,
Of a man in China who smoked
Forty a day, ate swine between cigs
And he was just fine
Till one day he dropped dead.