I was woken up in the early hours of this morning, not (as I was a few weeks back) by some idiot bashing on the door under my bedroom window, repeatedly informing the world in general as loud as he could that he was “Going to party like it’s 1999!!”*This is 100% true. The people who live below me are sociopaths., but by the following poem rattling about my head, which I can only presume I composed whilst sleeping…
There once was a CSI Sidle,
Who hunted down folks homicidal,
She worked in the lab,
But seldom looked drab,
And her intellect never was idle,
Kublah Khan it ain’t.
But honestly, what in the name of all that’s sane and holy goes on in my head when I’m asleep? Composing limericks about characters from CSI? That’s pretty damn deranged. To be fair I’d just watched the season finale of said show (the one where Quentin Tarrintino does the world a great favour by burying George Eades in an airtight perspex box*I jest – Nick may not be my favourite character but I don’t bear him (or George Eades) any particular malice.) but that’s no excuse! I’ve never composed poetry about any other TV shows in my sleep. Sheeze!
(I did say on Friday that over the weekend I was going to write about what I’ve been up to – well that sort of fell through after a very frustrating Saturday which I may or may not write about tomorrow. So there! 🙂
