What About You? Asks Kingsley Amis

When Mrs Taflan Gruffydd-Lewis left Dai’s flat
She gave her coiffe a pat
Having straightened carefully those nylon seams
Adopted to fulfil Dai’s wicked dreams.
Evans didn’t like tights.
He liked plump white thighs pulsing under thin skirts in
packed pubs on warm nights.

That’s that, then, thought Evans, hearing her Jag start,
And test-flew a fart.
Stuffing the wives of these industrial shags may be all
Very well, and this one was an embassy barroom brawl
With Madame Nhu.
Grade A. But give them that fatal twelfth inch and they’ll
soon take their cue

To grab a yard of your large intestine or include your glans
Penis in their plans
For that Rich, Full Emotional Life you’d thus far ducked
So successfully.
Yes, Evans was feeling ... Mucked-
up sheets recalled their scrap.
Thinking barbed thoughts in stanza form after shafting’s
a right sweat. Time for a nap.