I asked, “How about some custard?”
She said, “No thanks,” looking flustered,
“It’s far too lumpy
for me to enjoy properly.
It’s like it’s got bits of broccoli
in it. It makes me jumpy.”
I said, “Alright. How about jelly?
That’ll flow nice to your belly.
We’ve enough to feed a jaguar,
or a Mercedes.”
Like all sarky ladies
she chortled, “Oh, what a wag you are!”
But I pressed on. “Syrup?
Come on, that’d make you chirrup!
You just wait there
on the kitchen table.”
She said, “Stop! You’ll never be able
to unclog it from your pubic hair.”
