Never meant to sound happy! It's a horrible thing, he was a great artist no questions.
Despite clearly touching kids!
Status report Page 796
Must be chipolata's role model...
Quote: Darren Pomroy @ June 25 2009, 11:39 PM BSTDespite clearly being found innocent of touching kids!
Yep!
I don't doubt him being innocent for one moment.
Robyn, changing the subject, is realising how much she loves poetry, without a hint of being pretentious about it.
Tut tut. Changing the subject!
Aaron dislikes poetry. Load of pretentious wank.
You've just not found a poet, or even just a poem, or a line of one, which speaks to you enough yet.
I have. Numerous times. But most are a load of rubbish.
Quote: Aaron @ June 26 2009, 12:30 AM BSTpretentious wank.
Can one wank pretentiously? How? Does one masturbate furiously whilst yawning?Then when achieving orgasm complain about how "predictably" white one's ejaculate is?
It's definitely worth it for the search, I think, because if you don't look through what you see as rubbish, then you'll never find the good things.
Quote: Tim Walker @ June 26 2009, 12:38 AM BSTCan one wank pretentiously? How? Does one masturbate furiously whilst yawning, then when one orgasms complain about how predictably white one's ejaculate is?
Didn't need to see that.
Quote: Scatterbrained Floozy @ June 26 2009, 12:38 AM BST
Agreed. 
Is too late now!
Don't have nightmares, kids.
Quote: zooo @ June 26 2009, 12:40 AM BSTIs too late now!
Don't have nightmares, kids.
Quote: Scatterbrained Floozy @ June 26 2009, 12:29 AM BSTRobyn, changing the subject, is realising how much she loves poetry, without a hint of being pretentious about it.
TOILET by Hugo Williams
I wonder will I speak to the girl
sitting opposite me on this train.
I wonder will my mouth open and say,
'Are you going all the way
to Newcastle?' or 'Can I get you a coffee?'
Or will it simply go 'aaaaah'
as if it had a mind of its own?
Half closing eggshell blue eyes,
she runs her hand through her hair
so that it clings to the carriage cloth,
then slowly frees itself.
She finds a brush and her long fair hair
flies back and forth like an African fly-whisk,
making me feel dizzy.
Suddenly, without warning,
she packs it all away in a rubber band
because I have forgoteen to look out
the window for a moment.
A coffee is granted permission
to pass between her lips
and does so eagerly, without fuss.
A tunnel finds us looking out the window
into one another's eyes. She leaves her seat,
but I know that she likes me
because the light saying 'TOILET'
has come on, a sign that she lifting
her skirt, taking down her pants
and peeing all over my face.