39 years with serious-itis
24 hours in 3 6 5
God my stomach is rife with garbage
Like this rant I'm stiff with rhyme
I connoisseur on the philosophical
I half read books that hurt my head
Like Wittgenstein and Stephen Hawking
My coffee table's on its last legs
I hold opinions that are precious
Talk and talk about myselfSublimely oblivious to the magic world of Harry Potter
Inspiring the arse off food porn biscuit sellers
Oh if only this life were a constant round
of Judy Finnegan and Carol Vorderman
Flopping their knockers all over the shop
Then I'd be happy
And the recrimination could stop
I pontificate on the state of tomorrow
I write and rant and whinge And vomit and yabber and whine
Give me a subject and I promise I'll go off on it
There's no limit to my desire to opine
written some time ago - must have been in wickham market judging by the tone.
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