[Brian Allgar]

I’m doomed. I woke today convinced my brain has grown a tumour.
I need a transplant, but I fear I’ll never find a donor.
The pain is ghastly, incapacitating; I assure you
The thing is there, much bigger than the average satsuma.
I stagger to the doctor’s, where I tell him I’m a goner.
He smiles, and says “My remedy will either kill or cure you.”
I hate that doctor and his twisted death-bed sense of humour!

Upon my aching cancer-ridden forehead slowly melts a
Gigantic pack of ice that could have sunk the old Titanic.
The doctor says “Now swallow this”, and hands me something fizzy.
It works a treat, as if I’d taken heroin or schmeltz - a
Miracle! My cancer’s cured! I feel euphoric, manic.
“However did you do it, Doctor?” “Oh, it’s pretty easy
For hangovers - a double dose of good old Alka-Seltzer.”