Another week, more poetry. Getting bored of it yet? Tough. Our most lyrical feature is here to stay, like a great big fancy bouquet.
As it’s summer and a lot of people want to get half naked and show off their bodies, we’ve gone for this fashion special thing.
We’re not really any good at fashion, but we’re going to ignore that in favour of lecturing you like raging narcissists.
These jeans were made for walking.
And that’s just what they’ll do.
One of these days I’ll use boots instead, like a proper person.
My wife has a go at me for the state of my y-fronts.
She says it sets a bad example for our infants.
Time for a divorce!
When you’ve got a killer bod.
Speedos make you look like a God…
But also a bit of a dickwad.
The hat it rests upon my head.
Not unlike a single by Right Said Fred.
I’m too sexy for my hat.
When winter is amongst us.
The neck, it is vulnerable.
Move to Barbados or buy a scarf.
My desire was to jump very high.
I bought a jumper.
The disappointment of inadequate jumping.
The woman, she is often quite short.
Into the sky she most go.
To the complement of destroyed ankles.
It is every man’s right.
To get into a really big fight.
And then put his teeth in his man bag for safe keeping.
What do you think is worse?
Falling over or forgetting your purse?
When it comes to hitting the beach.
Make sure you haven’t been drinking bleach.
Otherwise you will screech (in skin peeling agony).
Feet are alone unless they’re enthroned.
Feet must not deal with the feat of overcoming abandonment.
Unless it has athlete’s foot, then that’s just gross.
As a woman I always wear skirts.
Because I am aware of the local flirts.
And when they pester me I punch them in the bloody jaw!
As a shoe, I have to put up with this.
Good God, it makes me yearn for bliss.
Instead I stare at verucas.