Thrush

I’ve got an itch

And it’s a bitch
It’s deep inside my fanny

Like soldier ants
Inside my pants
In every nook and cranny

It’s my belief
I’d find relief
If I could only scratch it

But I’m in my review
And my manager’s view
Is that 'up' I need to ratchet

I really do think
He’d do more than just blink
If my hand reached into my panties

I think that recourse
Might throw him off course
From his mission to up me my ante’s

He’s talking of bonus
And how it’s my onus
To turn things around and take action

He’s shown me my targets
Discussed untapped markets
But my vulva is causing distraction

I tell him he’s right
And a load of old shite
About how much I’m loving his firm

I say this while smiling
And hope it’s beguiling
As my lower half’s started to squirm

I throw him a line
About how things are fine
And I’m doing my best to appease

But under the table
I’m feeling unstable
As my knickers are filling with cheese

I know I’m defeated
But I have to stay seated
And hold out to finish this meeting

I feel perspiration
But find inspiration
As I make subtle use of the seating

Back and forth as I rock
My boss looks in shock
It’s a dangerous line that I’m crossing

But it doesn’t seem wrong
To manoeuvre my thong
And attempt to perform body-flossing

The situation is dire
My fanny’s on fire
How much more can this poor woman take?

The answer’s ‘no more’
It’s too fucking sore
So career suicide I must make

I jump to my feet
Admitting defeat
And I tell him I really must dash

He says, ‘Please explain!’
But I’m in too much pain
I just have to attend to my rash

I make for the door
But he crosses the floor
My hasty retreat now prevented

So what happens next
May forever be etched
On his mind’s eye, and firmly cemented

‘I was in such a rush
As I’ve terrible thrush’
I say, for there’s no turning back

And I lift up my dress
Now he’s blocked my egress
As I feel I must show him my crack

I point to my twat
And I say ‘look at that!’
And I give it some well-deserved rubs

And buried in hair
My labia’s there
Like a couple of red inflamed slugs

I thought if he saw
A vagina this raw
He’d be quite sympathetic at least

But he’s no comprehension
Of a female infection
That’s caused by a source such as yeast

He’s visibly shaken
By the action I’ve taken
But my intuition I trusted

My trust was misplaced
As he’s turned quite po-faced
I can tell he’s completely disgusted

‘Good grief’, says my boss
‘I’m quite at a loss
And I struggle to find words sufficient’

‘I feel disappointment
For since your appointment
I thought you were rather proficient’

‘You interviewed well
You were skilled, I could tell
And I thought it was prudent to hire you’

‘But in this situation
As you’re still on probation
You leave me no choice but to fire you!’

It could have been worse
I might have left in a hearse
As I literally thought I'd expire

Now I leave on the premise
That I'll find a chemist
Who'll grant me my utmost desire

For you must understand
There is only one brand
That will prompt me to utter 'Amen!'

I may have no job
But all I need is one blob
Of that miracle cream, 'Canesten'.