Love (true meaning of)
My love for you burns
Like the Danish Embassy in Tehran
Valentine's Day is, as we all know, a big pile of bollocks, as far removed from the concept of love as is entirely possible. The only love springing from 14th February is that of Mr Hallmark and his big pile of money, and I am in no way insanely jealous of this fact.
So, in the spirit of rescuing the day from the money men, I ask you, beloved readers, to come up with appropriate verse to celebrate the true meaning of love.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Take all your clothes off
And jump up and down on this trampoline while I take photographs for a specialist website, there's a dear.
Now, name me one woman who would refuse that sort of offer, eh?
Our love is like a red, red rose
And also like your blood
That runs down the specially carved channels and into the public water system
As I feast on your still-warm entrails
Who'd have thought there was
A sacrificial stone in this neck of the woods, eh?
Beautiful. Simply beautiful.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Hot, naked and disgustingly sweaty
Dirtier than Zeta-Jones in the Darling Buds of May,
And all that business with the restraining orders.
I'm a dreadful romantic at heart, really.*
And just to prove that I'm not the only l33t po3t on the internets, I was sent this gem:
In the ocean of love
I'd love to give you
A right good rimming
Roll on the 15th.
* No. No, I'm not.