Ok, I've given in and caused poetry to break out, Llordd have mercy on my soul.
I've had a few lines of this rattling around my head for a few months, as Slurr can testify during a party where I was high and pretentious. Here goes:

Monty Fresh

Mornings of toothpaste and shouldering buses
Sour caffeine saliva, gasped nicotine burn
Suits without pleasures looking suitably rested
Not what they dreamed as a child

Smug early risers, secure in their place
The dazed and the weary fall in behind
And the pit in my stomach continues to grow
Is this all I can hope for in life?

The comfort of things forces you up in the morning
And chases you out of your head
Things just like everyone's, alarm clocks and hat stands
And beds to sleep well for your work

there's a certain amount of cockinesss involved in writing like this, on a blog, but at least you can't turn you down. All comments gratefully...well actually recieved, even never ever put finger to keyboard again (designed to elicit - 'Oh no we REALLY like it').