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?



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