WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH A DRUNKEN WELSHMAN?

(Wrap ‘im in a nappy and don’t ask questions, sit ‘im on a khazi to release his tensions, til, earlie in the morning).

Thinking about intoxication levels.
We start at the stage which is merely convivial when you’re chatting with family, strangers and rivals, consciously avoiding being too critical. Less about the serious, more about the trivial.

Then like great Aunt Daisy after her nightly glass of sherry
we tipple on to the next stage which is, of course, ‘merry’.

Now old merry Gerry, so full of life and cheer,
has a pint then cranks his volume – even Cardiff Bay can hear;
He laughs like a hyena, he thinks he’s cool and flash,
he’d buy the next round but again, he’s out of cash!

The next stage is – ‘in a bit of a state’
When Taffy starts to cogitate and exaggerate.
Is less inclined to communicate
More likely, he’ll start to pontificate
on yours and his and the country’s state.

Some gins and Granny fixes her hat at a sexy, rakish angle
She Lippies half her face and plumps her boobs so they don’t dangle.
Now, Gin doesn’t always agree with granny says it makes her scratch the itch on her ‘Jack & Danny’. So her legs get wider and wider apart
and when she creaks up to dance, ooops! out slips a fart! Not shaming ‘Mam-gu’ but we all know when Granny’s bottom burps that’s the end of the show!

The next stage is tipsy
(like Uncle Dai after whiskey)
who runs out of fear so has more goes at the risky
than is good for him.
With a pint on his head he’ll stand on the table
flip and catch it coz he’s so very able – and his mouth opens wide as the doors of a stable!
It was funny til the day he slipped on his bum
Knocked all his teeth out – so now he sucks on chewing gum!

.

If the music is Beatles or Stones or Elvis
And Maldwyn the Milk has had his five or six
You could say he’s reached the stage of ‘pretty half-pissed’!
Not much can dissuade him from the great time he’s havin
He moves like a twat but he calls it dancing
“The night’s young”, he shouts
to girls (he thinks?) he’s romancing
When his missus turns up she’ll likely castrate him!

Then there’s the stage of ‘one over the eight’
Like Carys Jones who can’t open her gate
So she flops down on it, arse smiling at the stars
And at anyone else who happens to pass!

For big Sienkin Jenkins who does massive clean and jerks
It’s like 13 or 14 ‘fore his legs don’t work.
After 15 they’ll still follow the homeward track
But it’s two steps forward, two sideways and then three back! He’s the kind of imbiber who’ll drink 15 ciders. And buys them by the four.
He puts one in his pocket, Drinks one at the bar, then
The other two off the floor.
And when he’s full as a bull, you’ll find him out back
Fingers down his throat making room for a fresh attack.

But if you can still walk
you’re not at the final stage.
That’s when you can’t talk and you’re too drunk to gauge distance, your strength
or the feelings in your heart –
that’s when you can call yourself proper Rat-arsed!

Trashed, Smashed, Wankered or Wrecked,
Bollocksed, Banjoed, Muntered or Fecked – so drunk you can’t even lay down straight,
you even argue with the lamppost coz you thought it was your date!
and worst of all –

when you pull your shirt tail from your fly and hold it in your hands
totally not aware that you’re peeing in your pants!!