By the age of twelve I was known
As the Great Masturbator, renowned
For charming young schoolgirls
Out of their fallopian tubes. I'd flirt
With anything the constituency of liver;
And cruised slaughterhouses with my mother
Until, caught like a fish hook in foreskin,
Even she could not resist my grasshopper charms.
In '79 Debbie Harry broke my heart
And drove me into the arms of conceptual art.
So, I pickled my cock in a jam jar
And poured concrete into my father's car.
I ran off with all five of my English teachers
And wrote down their names on the bed sheets
Along with the dates they taught me The White Devil.
Saatchi gave me £20k for the lot, (told me not to tell a
In sixth-form I pinned my heart to the mortician's slab
And made love to two fried eggs and a kebab.
By the age of nineteen
I donated my libido to the Ashmolean
And concentrated on being a saint.
If you've any comments on
this poem, Andrew Boobier would be pleased to hear from you.