I wrote this a couple of days ago, in response to this news article.
We saw a sign on Southwold Pier,
That said ‘Don’t eat your lunches here’.
I hid my pasty in my coat,
While Ethel shoved hers down her throat.
And just in time, for downward flew
A seagull with a friend or two.
I whispered, “Ethel, show no fear,
“We are the apex hunters here.”
The seagulls had a different view,
And as their numbers quickly grew,
We backed against the water clock,
The seagull horde with cawing mock,
Moved in yet closer, Ethel cried.
But when all looked most bleak, I spied,
What may have been our final hope,
The Quantum Tunnel Telescope.
I took my pasty out and threw,
The pasty arced, the seagulls flew,
And running to the telescope
We slithered down its quantum slope,
Far, far away from Southwold’s pier,
To what may be a new frontier.
And, while we’ve both recovered face,
And settled into hyperspace,
Our memory of being there
Has scared the blue rinse from our hair.
So, should you go to Southwold Pier,
Beware the seagulls flying there.
And eat your lunch before you go,
(Or in the Under Pier Show).