I recently made a poem on the Tube, about well - the Tube. It was during the heatwave and everything was humid, sweaty, stinky and crowded. Thank God I had a seat.


Stinky and Sweaty
Is what I’d describe the old lady standing next to me - who fainted into spaghetti,
And the group of clustered armpits in the centre of my vision?
Get some antiperspirant already!
My oh my, this humidity is getting to me,
My mind is going all types of crazy,
I look at the fogged up windows,
Gosh this isn’t gonna get any breezy!

6 more,
6 bloody more!?
Who the hell do you think I am?
A teenage boy with ice cold skin for pores?
I wish I did,
Because right now,
God forbid,
Those doors open up to a swarm of more ‘pits,
They opened up,
Now I begin to panic over how I’ll barge my way through,
5 more stops to go,
And I’m already in bits!

Alas, the last stop,
The one I’ve been waiting for,
Ever since I started this journey,
Ever since I heard London had reached 34,
I’m here, dreaming about sitting in front of my fan,
Full commando,
Feeling like a big, buff man.
But one thing prevails,
And that’s for sure,
The next time you use the Underground,
Avoid it all, just sit on top of the doors.

Mta train is worse