ANYONE FOR TEA?! (A Poem From My Days as an Office Tea Boy)

Simon needs a herbal, or he’ll get in a strop,

Lucy wants the cream in, or moan that it’s a flop.

Tom demands a strong one, or he’ll get in a mood,

Liz must have it weak, or she’ll complain that it’s been stewed.

Charles won’t drink from porcelain, or he’s sure to send it back,

Francis gets the coaster, or I’m sure to get the flack.

Jack won’t drink the cheap brand, or out of a tiny mug,

Sophie for the sweetener, or she’ll pour it down the plug.

Karen pulls a sour face – the taste has not impressed,

Conrad says “I’ll go without, it hasn’t passed the test”.

Giles will not accept it, if it’s not brewed in a pot,

Sarah turns her nose up, if the temperature’s too hot.

Georgina gets the tea leaves, for that I get abused,

Richard gets the full-fat milk, for that he must refuse.

Tim won’t entertain it, if it’s halfway up the rim,

Rita wants it full, so she can dunk her biscuit in.

Thomas gives the thumbs down – now that the saucer’s cracked,

Polly wanted half a sugar, but the measurement’s not exact.

One day I told them –

“Your tea request – I must decline,

Today I think I’ll pass,

Why don’t you make your own

Pissing tea, and shove it up your ass?”

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