On Floyd

Oh shit, I shout,
Floyd has died!
Pickled, no doubt,
Or stir and fried.

What a start!
This pommy cook
Was all heart.
He had what it took -

Wine in one hand,
The other a fish -
Had no plan -
Out came a dish

Fit for a king.
Cheeky as sauce,
Wit was his thing:
It was his main course.

~~~~~~~~~~~



~~~~~~~~~~~

When I get well, sigh, I must go back for a feed at Floyd's Brasserie in Phuket. By twenty skillions of miles the best feed and service to be had in Patong Beach.

E@L

p.s. Was trying to find references to Floyd's in my old blog, but couldn't. However I have had an entirely pleasant 90 minutes reading through some of my old posts. Fuck, I used to be REALLY funny.

I should put some of them together sometime, somewhere. Sell it. Make money - everyone knows writers are rich.