The Passive Agresive Punk Poet Detective Handbook (Second Edition)

Yeagh, I admit I spilt your pint
Now you're stood before me trying to start a fight
It was kind of pathetic, I tried not to laugh
I wouldn't have minded buy you clearly haven't bathed
I just want to drink, not start a fight above the cellar
But that's what you get when you drink 8 pints of stella
My sarcasm, I think you misunderstood
So I read a page from the passive aggressive punk poets handbook
It gave me excellent advice, I swore only once, not twice
He took exception to this
Curled his hand to make a fist
He knocked the book out my hand, I dropped it
Staring at the last page,
in big bold letters it said
When in doubt fuck it
So I kicked him in the bollocks
He went down like a cheap whore
He deserved it, I hope his balls are fucking sore
It's scripture from the gods
A poets tool
The passive aggressive punk poets handbook
It pities no fool
His eyes rolled in the back of his head
like a jackpot fruit machine
I grabbed the book beside him
As he turned a shade of green
The floor was soaked in whiskey
I slipped in my rage
Stood upon a table
and recited the pub a page
Then left in the cold autumnal night
The pub was like a tomb
I'll be back for an encore
See you all, real soon.