Originally Posted by
Mossdog
So here I am, sat in my kitchen, nursing a poorly leg and feeling sorry for myself, when I suddenly realise, I have absently minded consumed the best part of two bags of co-op tangerines (2 for the price of 1 and 100% extra free!). My God, how could I have been so reckless, I've massively exceeded the Daily Recommended Dose. How could this have happened? For it could not be I that was at fault! No, the source of my gluttony must lay with those little minx, the fruit themselves. So take heed my fellow running poets, I have penned these words by way of warning. (All rhyming ineptness and poetry crassness is the responsibility of Vitamin C overdose - for that too could not be I).
The Hussy Tangerine
Choose me! Choose me! I hear her cry
This wanton fruit amongst God's fields of citrus delight,
Shuns all bushels that threaten to mask her light,
This juicious bundle calls out from a high.
Of her attire, brazen atomic hue,
So favoured by manly mountain rescue teams,
And gangs of lusty limbed highway men sporting bollardy themes,
A bright badge of questionable fidelity, it's true.
"I am no coquettish orange tease", she beams,
"My dazzily cloak falls away with such light touch and so alluring ease,
No struggle to satisfy the worldly wise or puritan alike, I wish to please",
"Ooooh Sir! Why I do declare!" She innocently interjects, it seems.
And once this little strumpet stands unabashed and wholly denuded,
Her joys unfold for all to so readily cleave,
And when so pleasured, to up, and take their leave.
But hark! Choose me! Choose me! Her sisters proclaim once more, so ruded!
So be warned my fellow formites, of these pocket temptresses,
Whose gawdy pleasures at this festive time sell themselves as so a-peeling,
Be not beguiled for it is Satan's little sisters that you are dealing,
So cultivate restraint and heighten our natural British resolve and stiff represses.
:D:D:D