A Fan of Bowel Movements…
Fly emerged one day with nothing to do,
But flit through the air looking for poo.
Nutritious morsels he’d find on turds,
Never mind seconds, he’d come back for thirds!
Brian, (Fly’s nemesis) sat at a café,
Enjoying a croissant and soya-milk latte.
Fly, full of dung fuel, took to the air,
And spotted some crumbs in Brian’s beard-hair!
But Brian spied Fly over the top of his paper,
‘If you try for my pastry, it’s LATER POTATER!’
As Fly buzzed lazily from turd to plate,
Brian rolled up his Guardian, content to wait.
He casually sipped his cow-juice-free drink,
Waiting, smirky-faced for Fly to think:
‘The opportune moment to land is here!
That hipster’s croissant holds nothing to fear.’
Fly circled the landing site plotting his route,
Brian’s eyes followed Fly waiting to shoot…
Then Fly nose-dived, heading for his goal,
‘Sugary goodness, it’s food for the soul!’
But Brian’s arm held the paper aloft,
And down came paper and Fly with a waft!
Fly’s body was broken, his head through his arse,
But at least Brian’s croissant was shattered like glass.