There is a strange fellow called Dick,
Who likes wearing see-through plastic.
He’s not the caring kind,
So he really won’t mind,
Being in a crap limerick.
Now they're earning their income from phones...
(Look, I can't do poetry, even bloody limericks. This is Mark Y-B's fault for encouraging me. I feel like my final line needs footnotes, and that can't be right in a limerick. )
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