As I laze here in post-Christmas slump
I’m drinking coffee via a pump.
I look like I’ve eaten an inflated space hopper,
I could explode any time, like a giant party popper.
I’ve scoffed so much sugar I’m turning into fudge,
You’ve done the same so please don’t judge.
I need to roll off the sofa and partake in exercise,
But to the muscles in my legs this might be a surprise.
Bring out the salad, it’s time to detox,
My skin’s breaking out like some kind of pox.
A healthy new me will now atone,
Oh, look over there, some rogue Toblerone.
(to be sung to the tune of ‘The 12 Days of Christmas’)
On the twelfth day of Christmas
My GP gave to me
Twelve happy tablets,
Eleven messy dressings,
Ten asthma puffers,
Nine Mirena coils,
Seven lifestyle lectures,
Six creams for itching,
Five prostate probes,
Four med reviews,
Three sick bowls,
And a small pot to fill with pee.