Retentive

Tangiers. Suit tight, tie wedged,
shirt white, glasses dark. Omie  palone
friends amphetamine bona. Drum skin esong
he loves his dear old mum.
“I'm going home now to oil her willets.”
The crowd shrieks.
Autodidact, riddle me, clever clogs,
but “once more into the breach” would always be “oh, matron”
a fabulous sneer reduced to bum jokes.
Toilet sealed with drum-tight cling-film.