Baz 'its 'is brakes an' he swerves to the right
An' he stops wi' a mere inch o' grace
But th' aerial follows through in an arc
An' it lashes owd Bill 'cross his face

Bill 'its the deck like a sack full o' spuds
An' he lies stock still on the ground
Within a few seconds the folk from the chippy
Come out an' they all gather round
Then it's ambulance, police car, "blow into this"
An' statements an' "Stand over there!"
Next thing he knows Barry's down at the nick
While Billy's in intensive care.

Saturday mornin' it's cowd an' it's wet
An' Barry's back out on the street
He don't feel too good when he thinks about Bill
An' what 'appened the previous neet
But 'is conscience'll ease if he does the right thing
Makes an effort to put matters straight
So he stocks up wi' grapes an' a large Lucozade
An' sets off for ward number eight.

Just as he arrives he spots a young nurse
An' he asks about Billy's condition
She doesn't say owt except "Please, take a seat,
Someone will explain the position."
  As Barry waits he rehearses the words
That he'll use when the chance comes to speak
Then into the room bursts a junior doc
Been on duty since Wednesday last week.

"Can I see Mr Bent, he were brought in last night?"
But the medic stands shakin' his 'ead
"You're a little too late for that my old friend
I'm sorry to tell you he's dead."
"How come?" splutters Barry in sheer disbelief
His face now awash wi' his tears
"Van aerial disease" comes the doctor's reply
"The worst case we've had here in years."


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