“It’s in the App!”

Travelling north, the beautiful North,

Our brains in summer remission,

An epidemic of uselessness

Fully met with our bullish permission.

At a nice public house on the river

We selected some seats, unreserved

Within a cool room, away from the throng,

Baking outside as deserved.

The inside bar was deserted

A sign told us to order by App;

Our humour had died, neither Q-code we spied

Nor a manner of bridging the gap.

From a neighbouring table we borrowed a card

Displaying the requisite code,

But after twelve minutes no answer there came

We thought about hitting the road.

Ultimately, we made a bold stand

And repaired to the bar outside,

But when a wine list was sought from the barman

“It’s all on the App” he replied.

At a supercool Japanese restaurant

The waitress’s  language was poor;

Eventually, it became very clear

It was either the App or the door.

We fumbled for a whole quarter-hour

Each feeling an absolute fool,

Plates passing us by; the staff had a try,

The order was taken Old School.

***

Once again, the App rears its ugly head;

No ticket is needed, for the phone is read

In order to wave airline passengers through,

Or they would be if only the App proved true.