An unplanned incident, politically innocent
and quite open about such things,
two fellow medical students of mine
said, they made love,
as only those deeply in love can do,
using just eye contact to achieve
And that, yesterday,
along old gun emplacements
dug deep, halfway up the cliffs of Dover,
she had pulled her knickers down,
and, resting her buttocks over the edge,
had urinated out into the raging sea!
Chuckling at her mooning like this,
he had quipped:
“We hate the French, but we don’t
hate them that much!”
causing repeated, rapturous laughter.
Four more reasons, they said,
why they suited so well together:
audacity, medical term eloquence,
same wave-length humour,
both ardent Brexiteers.