It is reported that the NHS is planning to put late-night drunken revellers who think they need medical attention into Drunk Tanks in which they can sleep it off and sober up under a minimum of medical oversight instead of filling up hospital A&E departments.
If you get drunk you might feel ill,
And think that you should take a pill,
But you’re not ill, you’re likely thick,
And have been drinking till you’re sick.
It maybe that you cannot stand,
Unless somebody takes your hand,
And even then you’ve little clue,
About what’s going on round you.
But not to worry ’cos a friend,
Who is concerned a hand may lend;
He doesn’t want to take a chance,
So rings up for an ambulance.
The ambulance comes right on cue,
A medic takes a look at you,
While your thoughts, if they’re there at all,
Start seeing if you can recall,
What the nurses were like last time,
When you’d had too much gin and lime.
But this time you’re in for a shock,
Because we’re in a new epoch,
And those people who too much drank,
Are thrown into a new drunk tank.
That’s basically a metal box,
A touch, perhaps, unauthodox,
But where, because of all you’ve quaffed,
They leave you there to sleep it off.
Most likely this takes all the night,
At end of which you’ll be all right,
And p’rhaps have learned what drinks to pick,
So that next time you won’t be sick!