Stop thief.

Whenever I go to STV for a meeting, and I'm waiting in reception,
I always have a small moment when I'll want to stuff this in my bag.
It sits alone next to the swimming certificates and kinder egg toys.

The security guard in reception looks soft as shit
I reckon I could take him out with a boiled egg
and a passing insult to his shoes.

But then what would you do with it?

Bring a Bafta Party?

Where you, and other wankers stand around holding their awards
drinking Asti Spumante out of cheap shitty glasses in the ballroom
of some multinational hotel with the same carpet as they have in Bangkok.

Then you think:
Fuck, I do that already.

You put that thing down and sit quietly.