And in Conclusion

It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I don't think it went where I wanted. I may return to this at a later date and try again.

The Telephone Number of the Broad.

There's a beardy big-boned gamer in the heart of Dundee town,
There's a little Uni Club where he plays;
There's a small group of people who think he acts the clown,
And the big-boned gamer forever fits cliches.

He was known as "Big Bad Brad" by the folks in Dundee town,
He was dafter than they felt inclined to tell;
And for all his foolish pranks, he was welcomed in the ranks,
But he had yet to find the woman who rang his bell.

He had searched for her all along, with a hope with a hope that was going wrong,
The fact that he was tragic was plain to all.
He was nearly thirty-one and the arrangements that had begun
To celebrate Valentine's began to pall.

They wondered what they should do for poor old Big Bad Brad;
They met next evening as he ran his game;
And jestingly they thought that it wouldn't be too bad
If they went out and organised a dame.

All throughout the day, Big Bad Brad dwindled away,
And they harassed him to go out to a club:
But for once he failed to smile, and he sat alone awhile,
And drowned his sorrows with a good cabernet.

He returned before the dawn, with his shirt and trousers torn,
And a gash across his temple dripping red;
He was bundled home right away, and he slept through all the day,
With a large hold-all resting beside his bed.

He woke at last and asked if they could send his trousers through;
They brought it, and he thanked them with a nod;
He bade them search the pocket saying "That's for Big Bad Brad,"
And they found the little 'phone number of the broad.

They congratulated Big Bad Brad in the way that gamers had,
And hoped for his sake that it was a friendly gamerette;
But they shook their heads and left, for of luck he was bereft
And he was alone with the number he'd chanced his life to get.

When the party was at its height, on that still and freezing night,
They wondered where he was and called his name;
As they walked along the hall she could hear the screaming call
Of "Star Wars" clearly blasting thro' the gloom.

His door was open wide, and his screams were raving mad;
The place was wet and sticky where they trod;
A layer of tar covered the room and all over Big Bad Brad,
'Twas the "Vengeance of the Boy Friend of the Broad."

There's a beardy big-boned gamer in the heart of Dundee town,
There's a little Uni Club where he plays;
There's a small group of people who think he acts the clown,
And the big-boned gamer forever fits cliches.

Tune in again soon, same Blogg time, same Blogg channel.