NormThe Curly Bird and The Cramped Hamper
It was Geoffrey Chaucer, AKA Petulant Pete and Slippery Sam the Lady-killer, who wrote those poems in that funny brand of English. The man loved the ladies and the ladies loved the man, and little wonder with that cheeky grin and charming façade he was like some new-fangled townhouse. Ladies love townhouses. Writing in a ring surrounded by his adoring harem and with his curly mop blowing in the “wind”, The Flippant Philanderer penned his name in ink with a pen the like of which Chuck Jones could only dream of. The ladies love pens. His adoring ladies carried him aloft through the filthy streets to keep him clean, and as an excuse to declothe in front of the man they called Clean Pants Geoff or The Google-Eyed Eagle.
Baudelaire “The Happy Campervan” was as decorative as a man can be and he was a man despite the power of his mighty bosom and his fastidiousness around the home, particularly when bong water spilt on the carpet that one time when Delacroix came over to smoke a few cones and play Nintendo and eat chips and lie on the couch and the chips had the texture of masonry and the colours, the colours. Such was the fortune of the fortune of the man they called The Handy Handyman, a fate that left his works in such a way. On first reading some didn’t know what all the fuss was about but upon leaving the books in a smoke filled room they acquire a power rarely experienced from any art with the brevity and the vocabulary and the punctuation which is some of the cleanest and best you will ever see.
