Toilet talk

For all the women who, like me, spent an unhealthy proportion of their twenties queuing in girls’ toilets in various clubs and bars across London.

He’s got a penis like a pritt-stick.

Oooh, is that lipstick?

Ah babe, can I borrow it?

Thanks love. Your tits

look bangin’ in that top.

Girls, chop chop in there!

From His Coy Mistress

A riposte to Andrew Marvell.

I’ve always loved Andrew Marvell’s lusty poem ‘To His Coy Mistress’ in which he shamelessly seeks to persuade a young woman to acquiesce to his carnal desires.

But I have also always felt it deserved a response from the young woman’s perspective – especially given it was written in the 17th century long before birth control or feminism – so here goes – enjoy!

A young man called Fred

I feel like we all have a Fred in our lives. If we don’t, it’s probably because we are that person.

This poem is based on true events and should serve as a warning to anyone who proves impossible to lure out of bed in the morning – hangovers excepted:

There was a young man called Fred

Who regarded awaking with dread,

He could not, of his own accord, EVER get out of bed.

An ode to Tom, Lulu and Gary – on the eve of their wedding

Inspired by Roald Dahl’s classic children’s poem The Tummy Beast, this was written for my friend Tom, whose stomach has a such a demanding personality of its own he named it Gary. In marrying Tom, for better, for worse, his wife Lulu also agreed to a life with Gary – this seemed worthy of a rhyming verse or two:

I may surprise you when I say this,

And doubtless you will take the piss,

But Tom is not a greedy man,