Unsurprisingly, the inspiration for this one was a holiday in the South of France. I was simply in awe of the local ladies – they seemed a different species to sweaty, bedraggled me. You can see in my little thumbnail here, which was taken in Nimes, the elegance of me compared to the elegance of the lovely, composed lady posing for a photo behind me.
One day at the beach, there was one particular, very beautiful lady who sat down on a low wall which surrounded the beach – a wall that must have been covered in sand – wearing a white linen dress. When she arose, the dress remained both unstained and uncrinkled.
At that point, I knew something had to be done. And I did it via the medium of humorous poetry. Take that, immaculate lovely French ladies.
A plea to the ladies of France
There’s a few things we’d just like to ask.
Beneath that divine, skimpy dress?
Some signs of allergic reaction?
Your clothing should all be from Primark.
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I have to declare I’m not a lover of Halloween these days. I’m utterly depressed by the annual growth in disposable tat, and the increasing grisliness of the costumes. Call me super-sensitive, but I’m not a great fan of seeing my gorgeous, fresh-faced children dressed as corpses. Here they are in this year’s dreadful outfits; the only saving grace is that 90% of what you see here is re-used from previous occasions. You’re welcome, Mother Earth. You’re welcome, bank balance.