“Turn over the telly!” she said
OK thought he for rubbish was on.
But then the panic set in
For the remote control was gone.
Frantic searching high and low,
On shelf above to under the chair
Remote control where art thou?
But its not there.
Accusations fly.
The air is tence.
Not willing to walk to TV
It makes no sense.
You had it last?
I didn’t you tit.
Well you get up
From the arse on which you sit.
It came to blows
And venomous fight
But still the remote
Was not in sight.
Hands round neck,
TV on BBC two.
Remote still missing
Not a clue.
That by the tv
Was where it lie
Its location responsible
For one to die.
Then he saw it.
Last breath he never heard her.
He just turned over
And watched diagnosis murder.