Advice for the young at heart

I'm a rubbish blogger. I do very much like the idea of expounding to all and sundry about my inner musings and like even better the idea that someone might find it moderately entertaining.  However, inner musings don't much occur, other than those crucial ones about which type of tea to make (builder's, redbush... Ummmm, builder's, redbush) or whether it's cold enough to justify turning the heating on.

You may be interested to know Mr W's questions to be answered before so doing are 1) how many jumpers do you have on? 2) how many pairs of socks are you wearing? 3) hat? (Not as Scroogey as it sounds, remember I am bald as the proverbial) 4) jumping jacks?  If the answers do not match or exceed 2, 2, yes and 20, the heating stays firmly off. Or not.

However, I digress (if you only knew the joy it gives me to actually write that sentence. No idea why, but it fills me with delight), as I said, I'm a crap blogger.  What's worse is that it means Gary is left with the miserable task of finding something to write upon.

Luckily, as you can see, his mind has plenty of inner musings and they're interesting ones too.  Anyway, my inner musings only conspicuous by their absence, I offer to you a choice morsel from Gary's delicious poetry volume, Silly Verse for Grown Ups.  It's advice he has passed on to loinfruit #1 and #2 much in the manner of a god-dad. Which they don't have but if they did, it would be him.


In The Name Of Love

Isobel, over the centuries not much has changed;
The most important thing about a man remains his name.

Take, for example, a man named Ralph.
Don't date him if he rhymes with Alph.
But if he tells you he's called Rafe,
Fellate him first then make him wait.

Want to meet someone who's as sound as pounds,
Head for a bar in the best part of town;
Shout out Torquil and when someone turns round,
Go and say Oh, there you are. It's your round...

Forget all that nonsense about love, what a bore;
It's a myth put around to keep poor people poor.
And whatever you do, please don't marry
A loser with a name like Stephen or Gary.