Sir_Nigel Posted June 9, 2008 Share Posted June 9, 2008 When finally we get to meet, perhaps if you one day turn round in the street, I will woo you and whisk you away for a year and a day. ‘Cos I love a cliché - so I’ll wine you and dine you too. And I’ll pay. I’ll impress you with my repartee. We’ll cuddle up on the settee. Just you and me and Sky TV and Chicken in a Bucket for three. I treasure my clippings of you, I stick them in an album with glue. Though they’re pointing out your expanding Hips. Too many chips they say when they’re asking which is sexier - that or anorexia. I know you’re a little bit fatter than when you were in that Soap But to me that doesn’t matter. As long as I can still carry you when we finally elope. Why do they have to point their cameras right up your skirt? So they can tell you might have problems with Cellulite? Or got no pants on tonight? Then they can put it on a dodgy internet site? You can live at my house. Now that my mum’s dead. We can be wed We can sleep in my bed. Under my Sheffield United bedspread. You can dump your rich fiance Who I read once shagged Beyonce Behind your back And hers. Dirty get. That goal scoring Brazilian earns about a half a million a week or something, so they say. But I reckon he’s gay, anyway. So you’ll be well rid. Our love will be strong once we’ve met Although that hasn’t happened as yet It’ll be great when we do ‘Cos it’s fate me and you I’ll finally say Hello Which will be ironic ‘Cos that was where I first saw your face All those years ago. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
shoeshine Posted June 9, 2008 Share Posted June 9, 2008 That had me chuckling, Sir_Nigel. And it's Monday morning too! Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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