Pompeach Med crunched the Iceberg with zest and picked the morsels of snow cameleopard with a spear. The day finished perfect with a bungy jump down the Whopper crevasse. There is something about flying krill that you cannot put your finger on.
forty thousand headmen rummage in the tummy. Yes guys, grub’s up! Sense of humour vacation; Mastermind your manners. Cormorant sandwich craft shop at Vivid Slobs. The How! The hell! Into the nitedark thunk and footfall of footpads and poops: planning permission grunted. Posit over that there, plummy and pipe cleanerly: Puffin on a cheroot. Gazeful of the Titian egg and soubriquet sandals. Beater Stuyvesant goes up in smoke; clam driver dorwning; lampshed and Romanov: reel purty Faberge muffin. Clop!
…
Time for a kick in the balls?
Forty seven head boys all in a row;
And ‘If’ one green headboy should accidentally fall?
Forty six won Nations banging on the floor:
A Barber’s floor!
Adagio for Skins; the Book of Common
Dare; St. James Infirmary Druze;
Quinn crying: ‘Muldoon of Finisterre…Davy Jones’
Beta Mocha, (mush lamented skipper
Of The Good Ship Lollipop) Tossed at
Seas like a top; then, plop there goes another
Blubber Free Ant.’
These are the days of our lives!
Doss days of monocle & blunder:
Time for a kick in the balls?
Forty seven head boys all in a row;
And ‘If’ one green headboy should accidentally fall?
Forty six won Nations banging on the floor:
A Barber’s floor!
Adagio for Skins; the Book of Common
Dare; St. James Infirmary Druze;
Quinn crying: ‘Muldoon of Finisterre…Davy Jones’
Beta Mocha, (mush lamented skipper
Of The Good Ship Lollipop) Tossed at
Seas like a top; then, plop there goes another
Blubber
Free
Ant.’