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the man who stole Thursdays.

hmmm…… is it Wednesday or Thursday ?

she asked of herself out loud, with furrowed brow.

 

it’s Friday he shouted across the office:

 

yes, he thought,

it was a masterstroke stealing Thursdays

 - nobody’s going to miss the odd Thursday

 

it’s not like there’s anything on the telly

& Friday means fish for supper;

Saturday’s the best day of the week

and Monday – well, best not said.

But Thursday !!

Perfect.

 

Remember the times he tried it on a Sunday though ?

 Holy shit !

 

 - the nation collectively lying there under the duvet

listening snugly & smugly

to the impotent tinny tones of the alarm radio

& dreamily looking forward to a day chock full

of absolutely fuck-all

when Wham ! - the dawning realization – the full horror –

 

 - (like that time you’d pissed the bed at the Ritz) -

 

It’s Monday !!! ……quick !

……. shit & shower & pronto like,

and just where did that weekend go ?

again ??