I had my bollocks torn off by a short

Sighted owl. I put Vaseline and glue

Side by side. That’s why I got myself caught

With a chicken still stuck up my arse. You

Claimed it was a friend of a friend of yours

I don’t know you!. Who are you anyway?

While I took a slash in the great outdoors

That bird of prey snatched my goolies away.

You exploit my fowl-play, making yourself

Sound cool, reducing all my misfortune

To fictions less likely than those on elves

And fairies, so my stress makes me balloon

Out in weight to forty-two stone. Carrot

Only diets seemed well worth trying out....

Now I’m a fat orange skinned idiot

And you have something new to laugh about.

© Copyright. Arthur Chappell

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