Bad orgy

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I’ve never been to an orgy, but knowing my luck, if I did go to one it would be a bad one.

I would like to think at a good orgy, you’d have the likes of Warren Beatty in his prime, George Best c. 1969, Charlotte Rampling, the birds from “Friends”, loads of cocaine, plenty of good dry white wine. A swimming pool, great music – you know. But I have a nagging feeling that an English orgy in 2004 is held in a two up two down ex-council house in Aylesbury, and the first thing you see is your postman taking the woman from the charity shop in the high street from behind.

Local paper advertisement,
Box number, send picture.
All enquiries will be replied to,
A good sense of humour is not required.
I was coerced and under rehearsed,
Self conscious wishing I was unconscious,
Never born with the technique,
To commit acts of which we cannot speak.

I don’t want to be aroused, in this grubby council house,
I’ve no wish to copulate in front of a plumbers’ mate.

It’s a Bad Orgy – the worst I’ve ever seen,
The worst one I’ve ever been to.

I had to look away when approached by a middle aged woman from Stoke,
She’d been on the road since six, because of traffic on the M6.
A girl who stacks shelves at an out of town DIY store,
Was manacled to the floor.
A sales rep from Leamington Spa,
Was squeezed into a second-hand bra.

And yes I really do mind, to take you from behind,
And I’ve no wish to join you upstairs with that couple from Broadstairs.