Us

Oh boys, oh boys, why are we three

Sat in this room like mugs on free Wi-Fi?

Phones in our hands, cackling with glee,

Filters on faces — “Oi, look at me!”

Oh boys, oh boys, absolute melts,

Peak performance from three grown bellends.

Zoom it, stretch it, give him a chin,

Big enough to rent out as a bin.

Saving the pics like national treasure,

Passing them round for maximum pleasure,

Then it goes quiet… someone sighs,

“Bit harsh, that,” says Dave, avoiding eyes.

Phones in pockets, awkward cough,

Suddenly realise we’ve peaked… and dropped.

Oh boys, oh boys, what a state,

Turns out we’re the prats we love to take the mick out of, a mate.