Thursday 24th Feb 2022
I wrote a poem about that nonce I saw at the park yesterday.
“Nonce in a playground looking at kids, I think he might touch them heaven forbids.
Birdwatching is what he says the binoculars are for.
I bet the next day police come knocking on his door.
He lives in his mum’s basement and watches TV all day.
When he’s out and about, keep your kids away.
He’s turned to kids because he sucks with all the ladies.
He drives a white van made by Mercedes.
Jenny, Benny, Bert and Tim go running to Mummy in fear of him.
Put him in prison and lock the door, we can’t have him touching kids anymore.”
There is a good chance he wasn’t actually a paedophile and I’ve just made a poem making fun of some random bloke. Then again, I guess that’s the same as all my poems.
I’ve always wanted to write a poem for a pretty girl. Don’t think I’d be very good at it though because none of my poems are very flattering. It’d probably earn me a slap rather than a kiss. Even if I did do a good job with it, it probably wouldn’t work anyway. Don’t think poems are in fashion anymore.
I don’t think I’ll go for another walk today because it’s raining.