And so, I leave upon the morrow for the Philippines for a three-week sojourn. My son has decided in his wisdom to marry his longtime girlfriend at the tender age of 35. And has chosen this tropical land for his nuptials. I have been commanded to attend and will dutifully comply. My speech may not please the bride.
I will post, as is my wont, whilst away, unless internet access is shit.
Whilst in my shed, today, I had the compelling urge to compose the following doggerel. May the gods forgive me.
I met a woman whose arse was green,
She begged earnestly if I would plant a seed.
Her choice of pasture was barren, I decreed,
No doubt a better venue would suit her need.
A better farrow lay close, indeed,
My choice of allotment, little did she heed,
And she shouted, "plough my lot, fertility is not my need."
Gazing upon the green and verdant bush,
The choice of venue was undeniably lush.
But only a fool would plough that tush,
And wisely, I declined the deed,
And went about my day, without disease.
Or leaves, beetles and perhaps aphids etc.