Went swimming and had a flashback of a suspect individual from the 1980s. I can’t name him for legal reasons, but he’s hopefully long since left the deep end. He inspired this poem. As you will read there was retribution….
Mouth-breather, middle lane
His goggles never mist
Breast-stroker without shame
He’s got to take the risk
Freeze-framing underwater
Bums and tums and thighs and breasts
Mick’s girl and Pete’s daughter
Preyed on by a perving pest
At his desk, sniffing at his skin
A chlorine tang that takes him back
Closes his eyes, he’s diving in
His chosen aphrodisiac
His desk drawer is crammed with trophies
The leisure centre fetishist
Nose-pegs, whistles and locker keys
A swimmer’s cap he can’t resist
When it’s quiet in the office
He’ll be wearing what arouses
Verruca socks that reach the knee
They’re hidden inside his trousers
Mick and Pete wait in the deep
Pull off his trunks and hold him there
‘We’ve done it for the ladies, creep’
Now it’s everyone else’s turn to stare
