It's sad that they don't teach poetry in school these days.
Asa matter of fact, I went to school with a lad so determined to learn poetry, that he was forced to write his verses on his emerging, youthful carnal desires for Miss Shagwell on any surface he could find. THE MAN soon put a stop to that, and a great laureate was lost forever.
We aim to rectify this shortcoming – forced onto us be decades of Political Correctness Gone Mad at the hands of Gordon Brown's ZaNuLieBore – with a series of lessons on the poetic arts.
Lesson One: Ode to a Gentleman (c. 1597)
A man's occupation
Stick his cockulation
Increase the population
The younger generation.
The last line is, of course, to be delivered with a hearty cock-punch to the
Next week: We examine Oscar Wilde's classic work: "Here I sit, broken hearted, paid my penny, only farted"