Damon: alien invasion

Intrigued by a small ad in the local rag

forty men set off, each wearing a bumbag

The advert was cryptic, not giving much away

bring: a spade, a doily and a bale of hay

An odd list, but they did as they were told

they were a strange group - all seventy-five years old

Thirty-eight Scorpios, a couple of Pisces too

No-one knew what they would be asked to do

They gathered at midnight just outside Tring

where a huge spaceship stood silently waiting

An alien emerged and surveyed the crowd

as the dishevelled group gathered round

Antennas twitching, he selected just one

Damon was excited, his adventure had finally begun

Clutching a spade in his hand and a doily made of lace

he ran, scattering hay, with a smile on his face

The door shut, as Damon boarded the ship

he loved the decor, it was surprisingly hip

The furnishings eclectic, the music niche

Damon and the alien chatted, whilst nibbling quiche

As they danced ’til dawn on that moonlit night

Damon was loving the vibe but try as he might

he just couldn’t relax, couldn’t calm down

he was still wearing his Parkinson’s frown

Suddenly Damon awoke rigid, unable to turn

his body in spasm, dystonia began to return

It started in his feet, his back and his neck

desperate for some relief, ‘Oh flaming heck’

Damon was sad to leave his amazing dream

where everything wasn’t as it had seemed

Where aliens existed, where Damon was free

and it wasn’t all about disease and sodding PD