Where it Hurts
Leggy blondes in micro-skirts
Tend to get me where it hurts.
Would you rather go to Tesco
Or have torrid sex al fresco?
Here is my opinion: what a
Load of tosh is Harry Potter.
Babelicious babes all must
Like vacuum cleaners come to dust.
The Boss who Complained of Inefficiency
A bottleneck, you say -- but stop
A bottleneck is at the top!
Every pleasure of the night
By the morning seems so slight.
The chances are, when this is read,
That I shall be a long time dead.
For a Politician
The final judgment-scales are just:
He built on sand, now turns to dust.
Here Andrew Belsey lies in truth
Who wasted both his age and youth.
If you've any comment on these poems, Andrew Belsey would be pleased to hear from you.