The original claim was me mate Podge had lost
th’ plot - they said he couldn’t spot a difference
between a brace of enchiladas, or the echidnas
bottom until too late - but I’ll stick up for ‘im; I’ll
state he just doesn’t play th’ game in a way y’d
recognise as fair and square - being so when ‘e
gets to dig up his special marrow-bone treat he
had thoughtfully buried, th’ local spiny anteater
Considerately added its mote of scent to where
Podge’s nose’d register it as something’s a wee
bit fishy, and there I rest my case; so me mate’s
‘dispositions’ not th’ same as you ‘voyeurs’ & a
propensity to see malarky before an echidna or
enchilada’s been differentiated to your taste ok
© 25 July 2017, I. D. Carswell
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