Most chores are done, you’re settling down
With thoughts of what to view,
Aware that TV programme flips
Require a Man’s IQ.
The Female’s good for lesser things
Like keeping house and shopping.
Her brain is feeble, it can’t cope
With high-tech channel hopping.
He’ll make a cup of tea. How kind!
Her chance for programme switchin’.
Dismiss retrieving handset, though,
It’s with him in the kitchen.
Oh joy, his eyelids flutter, close.
The room explodes with snores.
She tiptoes over but, alas,
Remote’s held firm in claws.
How tempting to give up the fight!
Despite her cry and hue-ing,
It’s in the genes, unalterable,
That Man decides all viewing.
Yet, still the impasse can be solved:
DENY WHAT HE LIKES MOST.
To win the battle for control,
Don’t cook his Sunday roast.
Do you ever hanker
For TV days of yore,
When simple press of button
Meant a walk across the floor?