Tuesday 27 May 2008

WHY WAS I BORN SO BEAUTIFUL?

I was sitting in front of my suit-stained abode, on a rusty, upturned zinz bucket. I was arrayed in Duke's of Hazard overalls, with wan strap hanging down. My lusturious mass of red hare was tied in a bun with wan of Bon Jovi's skool ties. I was wearing my favourite gansey, the Israelia army wan, with, "We Shall Knot Be Moved" rote on the back in Hebrew. My splayed feet were naked, my sturdy hob-nailed boots lay beside the collected works of Proust, Sarte and Jeffrey Archer.
I glanced down demurely at my legs, what sturdy, blew-veined vechiles of convenence and transport them were. I wiggled my toes and smiled mysterially, like the Mone Lisa's good looking sister. I felt--senrene, I was a konfident, modern day woman, stuffed two the throat with boiled badger. The world was my lobster, there was nothing I could knot do. I blue my nose with my fingers and lashed the clinging,transparent snotter into the nettles. I thought of a musical key--Aflat and broke wind in it, pitch perfect.
I raised my slender, maidenly, girlish arms in the heir and yelled,
"I am Rosie, I am woman, I am mother, I am lover, and yet, my grate beauty and demurness is talked about, where gay, debutantes meet two talk about beauty and demurness and dance the nite away, with the charlston or flappers flap two the black bottom
Suddenly, threw the gun metal blueness of the bog, I saw my lover approach. Chuck Corona, ex of the Garda She-kona, raced out of Dublin, with the stench of corruption hanging 'oer him and suspician of fraud, hanging round his bull neck like a veritable albatross. But my Chuck is innocent, he wuz framed and stitched up like a kipper
I watched deer Chuck stride manfully through the thigh Hi rushes, Every-thyme one of his little legs moved, he scent up a cloud of spores, that danced in the son and carried a rare, fragrant, musky sent over the blew-heathered bog. Everything about Chuck oozed-sex, from his squat, round, cannonball head,his sloped, round shoulders, the sexual curve of his pot belly hanging over his belt and his too sturdy wee legs like what you wood see on a Heraford bull.
I jumped too my feet, with genteel, decorm and ran two meet him, what a site we must have bean, too young lovers, running in slow motion, the maid attired in blew Duke's of Hazard overalls and her bow, dressed in a lovely magenta vee-necked pillover and a pear of harris tweed trousers, with the fork seductively and tantilisly decorated with pleats.
We thundered into each other, like too mating hippo's, I crushed my maidenly bisum two his manly chest, we held each other tite, I could feel the packet of peppermints in Chuck's trouser pocket. We kissed, drool merged with drool and ran down our young love bird chins.
Chuck probed with his tongue against my protruding nashers. I grabbed too clumps of hare and wood knot let go. Chuck put his leg behind me and tried two cope me like Mick McManus.
I shrieked, wantonly and earthily, like a love lorn pole-kat. Chuck began too gansey fissle, in a very robust, yet loving way. I was lost, lost in the white hot heat of passion, I arched my swan-like neck and let hi falsetto shrieks out of me, bringing an answering call from a korn-krake in a far off field. Chuck growled, "Begorragh" I shrieked "Jeepers" Then, I came two my senses and ran away, with wildly flapping arms.
"Know Chuck" I screamed. "We must knot, I feel the eyes of the boys in the vatican on me.
If Herr Benedict hears of this, he wool issue a fatwa on both of us and we wool have two go into hiding like salamander rushdie"
Arm and arm, we walked back threw the bog, back too my tender, loving abode for too mugs of room temperature Iron Brue and the toasted heels from a pan loaf.
Ah, lamore, you shake the nerves and you rattle my bones. Goodness gracious-grate balls of fire.

A MESSAGE FROM JP McMENAMIN
If you liked this-why not go to my other blog-its different, go to
http://www.greatshowlastweekkid.blogspot.com
Its a bit of a mouthful, but its just, great show last week kid, rolled into one
Hope you like it. JP McMenamin.

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