Cheeky little poem for all of you ladies of a certain age...........

So today I wrote a poem about wife swapping, or swinging as it's apparently better known.

 It was funny and as I had written  one poem today, I thought, 'bugger it, I'll write 2!' The most exciting part of my day is waiting for a steam cleaner that I have ordered from Amazon to be delivered so I think this will give you an indication of why I have been poetic. If you have fallen asleep by this point then WAKE UP it gets better, I promise you.

 

I have eaten some baked cheesecake and it's the quiz tonight. Mutley has only eaten a slipper today and mother in law in hospital until the weekend.

 

This poem is dedicated to all my 40 something friends................they will totally get it!

 

Goodbye George, it’s over, it’s not me , it’s you.

So for all you 80’s girls out there

That lived that decade in your teens ……..

How the hell did we miss it?

Were we really all that green?

Or were we blinded by our eyeliner

Did our fringes blur our sight

And make Wham!

 the epitome of manhood

As we now know that’s not right

I can see them like it’s yesterday

As they pranced into my life

George so butch, so roarrrrrr, so macho

Oh god I’d love to be his wife!

His flicks were big and bouncy

And they topped his glowing tan

God damn Pepsi and Shirlie

Get your hands right off my man

His pants were white and tight and sexy

They made me have rude thoughts

And who cares if a shuttlecock

Put the bulge into his shorts?

Not I for one, it didn’t click

I just thought that he was whacky

His t shirts the height of fashion

Not cheesy cheap and tacky

So it was with complete and great dismay

When he decided to come out

I saw it on the telly

‘’oh noooooooooooooo’’ they heard me shout

How could he be, what have I missed?

Did his persona reveal his likes?

What’s so wrong about a  pilot?

Or wearing leathers on your bike?

Or fancy Christmas jumpers

Or mentioning Doris Day

Or putting jitterbugs into my brain

Did that really make him GAY?

And then of course he went and got

Nicked for hanging round the loos

I believe they call it cottaging

Not a hobby I would choose

So my dream was crushed, my heart was broke

All I had left were his songs

And looking back

I can’t believe

That we all got it so wrong…………..