And now as your dreams of double glazing salesmen dancing through the supermarket aisles of your most deepest desires seem almost on the cusp of coming to fruition, it is time for you and I to talk of other, slightly more breadcrumbed things. For was it not Eric the Nonexistent, the 21st Pope of Tewksbury - who first became notorious when he marmaladed a choirboy in a most un-ecumenical manner - who once said ‘Parsnips, eh?’ in a manner not too inconsistent with the earlier teachings of Aristotle?
I feel I must ask this, despite the way you stand there with that pencil sharper so artfully poised above your writing desk, and the dusky tropical maiden you employ to segment your pineapples in such a beguiling manner in rapt attendance upon our intercourse.
I did not want to mention it in such proximity to a pencil sharpener, but today is the very day when we have no choice but to recall that time when you danced a naked tango with the trainee supermarket manager of your most fevered longings around rather a bemused penguin. Then, a bare two hours later, caught the first train to Grimsby, and that is not something that can easily be forgotten, especially while I’m wearing these trousers.
No comments:
Post a Comment