A Fork Is A Man’s Best Friend

If chips be the answer, send forth!

Or heaven purge another starch-ridden

Antidote for my hunger.

Shy not from the relinquishing of your golden goods, for

I seek to inhale, exhale and embrace all that you throw at me,

Hand-in-hand, fork-in-hand,

We’ll lead the crusade against the caustic inconveniences that corrode my

Stomach.

Screams of mercy shall greet my three-pronged General,

The war is not lost.

 

There will be men and women, who sit and stare, not care,

Slurping copious amounts of coffee…

…since when was a moustache a welcome addition to a man’s upper lip?

Whereas Tom, he has the right idea.

A warm wad of moss hanging from his cliff-like jaw,

The long lost piece to finish Mr. Tash’s jigsaw, yet it’s

Absent, missing, nonexistent,

Those rascal hairs have played truancy and deserted the poor sod,

Fear not though for he bears a gift of green,

Fairy dishwasher tablets for tea bags?

 

No thanks sir, an Assam will do just fine,

Surely nothing could be more horrendous, useless… unless

There are high visibility jackets in conditions of considerable

Visibility, then we shall try, feebly,

To break out the enviable obscenities for a quick swig,

Stand up, be a man,

Murdock would have a blind stab at it,

For God’s sake, even Tash would!

Too much choice? But

Choice doesn’t make us indecisive, having to decide does.

 

But now they leave,

Tash in tack,

Tablets in good knick,

Their faces exhibiting the cockle-warming benefits of a nice tomato soup,

Personally, the chips would have been better, but

Who am I to say?

Come closer; let me whisper in your ear,

Psst, oi, I’m talking to you!

All I wanted to say was that…

…a fork really is a man’s best friend.

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