Posted in bastards, musings

The red trousers, a poem

Screen Shot 2014-09-14 at 13.08.23You see them everywhere, and yet only a fool would wear them, the red trousers.

Retired Telegraph readers with white hair, trailing their wives around the supermarket might wear them, the red trousers.

I don’t think anybody ever pays full price for them, the red trousers.

Because they always end up in the sale, don’t they, the red trousers?

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World famous writer labouring in obscurity. My other blog is a Porsche.