[George Simmers]

This one may puzzle American Spherians.

Toxophobia

At seven, from the neighbouring room,
News headlines first, then sure as doom,
That tune presaging mental pain
With jaunty chutzpah spews again
Relentlessly from the machine.
Vile ‘Barwick Green’.

Calm start. Jill plans the village fête,
But still I hyperventilate.
Salt sweat’s erupting from my brow
Though it’s just Grundies burbling now
About a cow.

But it will come, I know it will,
That sound as screeching as it’s shrill,
That sound my nightmares know too well.
I hear the voice of Linda Snell.
I am in Hell.