A Fresher's Soliloquy

I can't bear to turn it off, I can only hit snooze, That headache means one thing, a bit too much booze,

As I regrettably try to open my eyes, I spot last nights Flames, surrounded by flies,

Phone, wallet, keys - the standard check,

But what are all these bite marks around my neck?

A quick glance at the clock, I've slept past noon, My lecture's at one, I should get up soon,
But then it begins - the internal debate, What am I going to learn in this god awful state?
I'm about as enthusiastic as a damp rag, Besides, last semester I got a 2.1, I don't mean to brag,
"Never again", the words race through my head, Before the sudden realization that I'm not alone in my bed,
Who are they, what are they, and why are they here? 'I hope I don't know them' - my eyes clench with fear,
A quick second glance reveals a distinct lack of clothes, And let's just say she's not my normal type, as far as it goes.
Grabbing my phone for some more clues, Mr Sherlock Holmes and the case of the booze,
Hundreds of blurry pictures dominate my camera roll, With some strangely familiar faces wielding a roadsign we stole,
Browsing texts from last night that I now struggle to understand, I was seemingly mashing the keyboard like I don't have a hand.
Water, aspirin and sleep - ye olde classic cure, I need to recover for tonight, round 2 and time to drink more,
Vague flashes of memory, but amnesia has consumed all the rest, Nap and then EDGE, because Tuesday is chest.

Dear Brother

To my older brother, the first born, the 'test run',

Mum and Dad wanted trial first, before they conceived 'the one',

Admittedly there were a few problems, which were ironed out in the second edition,

But it's safe to say you've survived twenty-one years and you're not so bad, which leads to this rendition,

See, I've only had to put up with you for nineteen years, that's how long I've been alive,

But through these nineteen years I've seen you grow, mature and strive,

I've seen you develop from a little kid, into a a bigger kid, into a really, really big kid,

And of course I kid, but on this day, to you a bid a Happy Birthday and a prosperous 21st,

To the tester baby, who was born the first.

Though there's many a story I could tell on this momentous occasion,

He made me promise I wouldn't, look I've even got the bruises, evidence of his persuasion.

But promises you see, I'm not too good at keeping,

And at that phrase I see Nikhil is weeping,

One story comes to mind, entitled the great vest rebellion of '02,

We'll start with this story, before we move on to the one about poo,

I'll set the scene, Nikhil about the age of ten,

That was the day two young boys turned into two young men,

One hundred odd children attended our school,

But only two looked really uncool,

Sporting these thick white vests that we were forced to wear under our clothes,

Mum never understood just how much these vests we loathed,

Every day we were good, abiding our parents vest rules,

We lived each day with our white underarmour, looking like fools,

The day came, however, when Nikhil said NO,

In an air so dramatic it deserved it's own show,

Like that famous scene from planet of the apes,

Nikhil was my superhero, without the unfashionable cape,

Not really knowing what was going on, as Nikhil's little follower I agreed,

"No more vests for us!", a little Nikhil decreed,

With a democratic vote that ended in our favour,

The 10 year old Nikhil gained victory, and that taste he would savour,

Since that day, a vest I have never worn,

After that victory, "No vests", we'd said and we'd sworn.

The are many more stories but due to time I can't go into detail,

But I'm sure if I wrote them down, they'd do quite well in retail,

From waking up at night and laying 'phantom poos',

To weeing in my bed when he couldn't reach the loos,

But, alas he was only young, the young old age of...twenty,

And has the grown up? He has, plenty,

He fought a brave battle against incontinence,

And now uses the toilet with such great confidence,

Of course I'm joking, and now we get to the serious part,

The section of the poem that unfortunately comes from the heart.

I know that through the years we've had our fair share of battles,

But I'll follow you forever, like a farmer and his cattle.

I'll be with you, wherever you decide to go,

I'll follow you through sunshine and wind and rain and snow.

I couldn't have wished for a more inspirational sibling,

I want to thank you for the happiness and joy to each of us you bring,

A successful, intelligent and caring future doctor,

This poem is for you, my hero, my proctor,

So here concludes the speech to our parents second favourite son,

If life was a competition, over 21 years, I'd say you'd won.

Myself (right) and Nikhil (left) before his 21st Birthday Party