Add ‘curry king’ to my resume.

Saturdays, I am ‘pizza dude’.

Now, my garam masala and garlic blend add a kick to Sunday nights.

today:
every amateur struggles
for scan,
meaning and…

something.

festival of rhyme (?)
marked by twittering middle earth…

incompetently.

put that
in your iambic pentameter.

Abscesses do not make heart grow fonder.

Contrarily, they deliver pain, discomfort and, in some cases, surgery.

This pus is rather unfluffy and uncute.

Consent form: “drug and knife me.”

Enema nurse: “I can’t find a way in.”

Anaesthetist’s needle: “Let’s add to the landfill.”

I’m in stitches.

No liquid three hours before. After, a day free of alcohol.

“I’d like a good look around.”

Bring slippers, gown and a good book.

Games from the left coast drag into the wee hours.

You may find answers at the glass bottom, but have you forgotten the questions?

Too cold: I’ll walk on the sunny side of the street.

Shady pavements beckon if it’s too hot.

Just right: I get run over.

Gap courtesy of Larry P’s elbow age 13…

Root canal and veneers created weakened tooth.

Drunken stupor claimed first falsie. Second succumbed to cheese sandwich.

Polmo Polpo – what kind of a name is that?

Halcyon – and on.

Shipping News – Actual Blood.

Tortoise – Prepare Your Coffin.

Old Crow Medicine Show

If Nick Griffin MEP feels homesick when he moves to Brussels, I can recommend a good curry house opposite Berlaymont.

Is the BNP racist?