Oh! So, look at Mark and Baz getting treats and favours from the monsters because they both suddenly went from “You can’t keep me trapped in here!” to “Here’s a poem for you, my lovely-horned, glistening overlords. Would you like me to kiss your tentacles while I’m at it?”
A place to sleep that doesn’t have a puddle of brown-no-it-can’t-really-be-that-can-it liquid is it, Mark? Do we all get a bite of your slightly mouldy Eccles cake, Baz?
No? Well – you’re not the only poets around here. No sir. Not by a long shot…
Ahem!
I put my goldfish on the floor
He isn’t very fit
He only did ten sit-ups
Then lay still, that was it.
Now, where’s my reward?
Tommy
18/01/2009 at 6:20 pm Permalink
The worst of it is, that’s a true story. Still, not as bad as the time you tried to get your neighbour’s cat doing bench presses. That was just messy.
18/01/2009 at 6:21 pm Permalink
Oh, and I’ll have you know I did NOT get any Eccles cake for my poem!
It was a Battenberg.
06/03/2009 at 8:08 pm Permalink
that poem made me laugh. i thought it was really funny.