Stupid, smelly love.

‘Oh Love, stab they heart out and eat it with your soul teeth.’ These aren’t my words, they were written over 200 years ago by Fickle Mickleton. And they couldn’t describe more the feelings that I feel this day. I told you about Fat Beth in my last post. I’ve spent the last 3 days standing at the bus stop singing and waiting for her to waddle her fat arse down the street. When she finally turns up, I recite my poem and all she does is grunts at me and gets on the bus. Grunts! That’s all she did! A poet of my standing shouldn’t stand for being stood up. So in revenge I’ve written a poem about her (for the last time).

Beth you are so fat,

Beth you are so fat,
You’re fatter than my cat,
You’re fatter than biggest whale,
There’s no disputing that.

Beth you are so smelly,
From just sitting watching Telly,
And stuffing all the rotten food,
Inside your big fat belly

Beth you are so ugly,
You think that you are snugly,
But you walk around with makeup on
That makes you look so smugly, (in that she looks too please with her-self and she shouldn’t because is so ugly.)

I think that deals with that.