I’m sitting across the pub table
from a much younger looking lad,
I think he’s GCSING but he swears he’s a grad,
I’ve brought him 15 ciders and I’m trying to make him loose,
My mind’s spiraling off, I’m his Aphrodite, he’s my Zeus
I put my hand on his and feel my knickers fizz
He knows the look in my eye,
sparks so luminous they’re impossible to deny
Aren’t they?
As he leans in,
I see years of imprisonment for pedophilia begin
But I couldn’t really care,
his face is so soft and fair,
with its lack of wear and tear
But alas I can feel the itch
within the chambers of my nose
I can feel my eyes squint and close
I try to stop it but simply can’t
mentally I curse the bloody plant
And I’ve sneezed all over his face
and he shouts ‘Jesus Grace’
and as he walks of I shout
NO! Don’t let hay-fever be
the end of you and me
So my advice would be
Don’t let pollen ruin your passion filled night
Get some Piriton and bloody play it right
