Tonight, I like the letter P
Some people prefer my prose, others prize the poetry (parts of which aren't mine) and some people pick the photos. Perhaps primarily people prove to be too polite to pronounce and play the silence part.
Tonight I propose to print as many p's as possible and publish a piece to put over a picture of an incident in Piccadilly station in Manchester.
I popped-in to pa's and ma's house to meet his, and hence my once removed cousins. They had taken passage on a train from Piccadilly. But prior to boarding a pact was agreed to part and meet again after a period of time - for purposes of procuring produce from M&S. Well, best part of 45 years of partnership served them no good, as they propped themselves up on different parts of the platform. Procrastinating. Puff of smoke (or probably petrol fumes) and the points change and the locomotive puffed out. Minus a pair of passengers. His problem or hers?
His, of course. Always the poor person with the long pants.
OK, I've given up with the p's. If you ever read this - it was great to meet you mate - and just admit it, it was your fault, and have a quiet life.
Some people prefer my prose, others prize the poetry (parts of which aren't mine) and some people pick the photos. Perhaps primarily people prove to be too polite to pronounce and play the silence part.
Tonight I propose to print as many p's as possible and publish a piece to put over a picture of an incident in Piccadilly station in Manchester.
I popped-in to pa's and ma's house to meet his, and hence my once removed cousins. They had taken passage on a train from Piccadilly. But prior to boarding a pact was agreed to part and meet again after a period of time - for purposes of procuring produce from M&S. Well, best part of 45 years of partnership served them no good, as they propped themselves up on different parts of the platform. Procrastinating. Puff of smoke (or probably petrol fumes) and the points change and the locomotive puffed out. Minus a pair of passengers. His problem or hers?
His, of course. Always the poor person with the long pants.
OK, I've given up with the p's. If you ever read this - it was great to meet you mate - and just admit it, it was your fault, and have a quiet life.
