Vouliagmeni

The word spreads at breakfast

Rapid and deadly as sparks

On the dried forest floor:

The pool will be closed today

Guests laugh nervous

Phones are checked

Eyes rolled sky-ward

Some in denial

It simply can’t be true, half-laughed

While a few speak the truth

Those oracles

It’s an outrage

They say

Hear, hear, we concur

A five-star hotel, please

And yes okay

Most of us booked at a discount

It’s not our fault

The state of the world

So to close the pool

For a wedding

Of all things

Is so selfishly typically Greek

What are we to do?

Walk a few minutes to the beach?

Absurd and rude -

Action must be taken

A couple from Kent kick things off

She pleads eyes wide

To the concierge

Into whose back her husband stabs

Three pencils bearing the hotel logo

A waiter, nearby, moves to help

But a teen from Tamworth trips him up

And he falls so hard both knees shatter

On the colourful mosaic floor

The hostess tries to escape

She’s near the door, after all

Not so far though

That an accountant from Ascot

Can’t accurately throw an egg cup

So that it severs her carotid artery

Felling her where she stood

In the confusion there are some cool heads

Two girls from Guilford guard the main exit

With coat hanger spears

And guest books as shields

While a family from Finchley fans out

Armed with forks and

Shattered bottles of olive oil

Into the kitchen they go

And soon enough

Beneath the swing doors run

Rivulets of blood

Meanwhile marauding Mums from Mosley

Take reception using wound up

Pool towels - useless now - to strangle

The staff and string them up

As a warning to others

Upstairs the clearers are unaware

Blissfully changing filthy sheets

Scrubbing the toilets unflushed

Until they are surprised by

Several salesmen from Southampton

Who silently suffocate them with

Unravelled loo rolls

Their dying eyes spying the janitors

On the roof waving infusors of essential oils

To draw attention to their plight

All too late, of course -

The children from Chester

Have scaled the walls to pelt them

With tiny bottles of lotion

Until one by one

They crash to the pavement below

Like hailstones

Now a fire is lit by some friends from Falmouth

The flames licking the frontage

Scalding the sentry-like valets outside

Who are showered in broken glass

From windows shattered as flat screens

Are hurled by some husbands from Hatfield

Walls are demolished

And the lifts come crashing down

A lawyer from Loughborough laughs

As bodies are thrown one by one

Into the hot tub

The water overflowing

Pinkish, going everywhere

Close the pool will you, he howls

And we all join in

A chorus of anguish and rage

Close the pool will you,

In unison, again and again,

As we are all engulfed

In the smoke and the heat

This is what you get

Don’t you see

When you close the pool for a wedding