Gah. I have to catch the bus in five minutes and have far too much LJ to read and e-mail to answer in that time, so I will write a poem (ok, some doggerel) instead. I am feeling in an oddly poetic mood today. I have already half-written poems about Wendy and Kris and now I will write one about my voice.

Oh voicey, my precious, why won't you come back?
As not having a voice is really quite cack!
Especially when you're in the Cart O Beer
Where nobody's ever able to hear
Even the people in the best of voice.
So being unable to speak isn't really a choice
If I wish to go there tomorrow night
And have a time that's not totally . . . rubbish.

It's possible to beckon people outside,
But normally when I do that, they cower and hide
As this might suggest that I am trying to pull
A prospect they rightly find quite horrible.
Although people, I assure you, I'm definitely not!
For giving someone this cold, I'd deserve to be shot.

And I apologise apologetically with apologies profuse
For all the tremendous and terrible amounts of abuse
I have subjected my poor vocal chords
While trying to impersonate death metal lords.