The speaker begins by listing ordinary delights: biting into fried chicken, drawing on a cigarette, swirling whisky over ice, and sitting idle on a park bench watching a girl walk past. The images are sensory and unhurried, full of gravy, smoke and the clink of ice. The mood is relaxed, almost lazy, and the speaker seems "content, still, fulfilled."
Then the word "Then-" breaks the spell. Voices crowd in: a woman glaring, a doctor preaching, a friend patronizing. Each one points to a health risk, from cholesterol to hypertension to cirrhosis. The speaker's own mind joins in, imagining old age, and the plea "please don't!" sounds half joking, half anxious. The tone shifts from warm to nagging and uneasy.
The closing question is the heart of it. The title, "Guillotine," suggests a blade hanging over these pleasures. The phrase "Gilt in guilt" plays on sound, suggesting that guilt coats every enjoyment, and the speaker wonders why simple joys must carry such a cost.