Her Giant Hands

Her giant hands
Gave the game away
After countless messages
Professing her sexuality
Appeared on a local musicians messageboard.

No one could see her giant hands
That once were mistaken
For foam equivalents
During Wycombe Wanderers versus MK Dons.

She tried to shrink them

Using vinegar

Using a hot oven

Using small glass gloves

Like a ship in a bottle.

But the fire brigade were unimpressed
As they filed the report.

But on messageboards
No one can see you type
No one can see you drinking honey
From a foxes skull
And no one can see your giant hands
Or the Duplo keyboard
Bought from a mobility shop.

But
Inevitably
Your giant hands
Gave the game away.
You couldn't resist meeting up,
Hanging out,
Thought he was nice.
He'd be ok about the "hands"
More bothered about the giant labia
Like plutonium-fed moths exiting a hairy arse
Or the breasts like tentacles
Seeking out a mouth to suffocate.
But it never got that far.
The hands were too far
Too much.
They saw their chance
Removed themselves from your arms
And flew up into the chimney pots.
Alive at last! Into the world.
Leaving stumps confused
Blood released
Screams
All that was left.

Damn you Nanette Newman.

Edmonds

"Chicken
Gas mask
Chicken chicken
Gas mask"
The sad sound of Edmonds
Sorting through the things
She left behind.
Oh, woe is he!
She pulled up her comfy breasts
And staggered off into the twilight
In a huff.
And all because of his putrid charm
That he left
Dangling like melted cheese
Tongue-like
Where all her friends could see.
A lion with melted cheese for a face
No surprise
She felt sick
From all that Kraftwerk
Pushed against her glorious mask
During love-making
Or ironing his sprouts
Or passing wind together whilst reading the Argos catalogue in bed.
No more cosy flatulence. Cheese ruined
That.