A quirky look at life from a Yorkshire poet and his dog's perspective
The other day, whilst writing, the television
had an ad which caught my peripheral vision,
extolling the virtues of an electric trimmer,
designers being clear it was not a him or
her thing, but targetted at the grump of the species,
which intrigued me, so I thought I'd take a look see.
Found the trimmer on their site upon the laptop,
not too expensive for a self inflicted crop-top.
And what is more, this electrical ware
came with freebies, to assist in shaving hair;
deodorant spray, cool boxer shorts, a shaving mat.
A mat for shaving, what the hell is that?
Then, the truth upon me slowly falls,
It's not to trim my face, but shave my balls!
If I want to sport a short Mohican look,
I can use my girlfriend's wax strips, or just pluck.