I went to see John Hegley
With a couple of my mates
John had one of his on stage,
A sort of Norman Bates
(Of the type inclined to violence only when directed against black rubber gloves and/or his own head)
He read some poems that I knew
And some that I did not
And of the latter ones there were
Quite a lot
Afterwards he signed the books
That I had brought along
I should’ve bought some new ones
I didn’t
Which was probably wrong
But I’m used to making such social gaffes
And the queues for writer and written were so long
