A Case For Insomnia

It’s Friday night down at the depot, and it’s closing in on half past four, the knock off bell won’t send us home … Friday night it’s the pub we adore. The pub’s a great place to relax, and spend valued time with our mates, where we laugh, and we joke up a treat, in surroundings imbibing creates. But alas there is always somebody, who is finding themselves in a fix, they drift off on their own to a corner, quite depressed and refusing to mix. Now I’d noticed poor Patrick Dorling, there looking quite morbid and sad, sitting alone with glass in his hand, amid nothing else wishing to add. So I sidled up close to poor Patrick, asking ‘what is the matter now Pat?’ Patrick replied, ‘my good wife Mary has a habit she needs to combat.’ ‘I’m finding her restless and angry, the looks on her face are forlorn, and I cannot break her out of staying up until two in the morn.’ ‘Good heavens’ I said to poor Patrick, ‘Is her insomnia fairly severe?’ ‘Oh no’ Patrick downcast shook his head … ‘Mary’s waiting for me to leave here.’