Fred Bunting, TV gardener, retired,

Confessed to the world that he had sired

Three sons and a daughter, handsomely aged,

With Mavis Malarky, alluring, unwaged.

Fred ran a farm shop while still on our screens,

Where Mavis would pop by each day for greens.

They say Fred was smitten the first time they met,

And soon their encounters were steamy and wet.

Friends notic...

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Quite nice, on the whole, that religious chap.

High up, apparently. (Could even be the boss;

‘Numéro Uno’, said a bodyguard.)

He gave me forty minutes;

Has some good ideas.

Drinks shandy with lunch

(‘Must keep a clear head’).

Unsurprising views on midweek sex (he is sceptical)

And Elvis impersonators (better in the North).

Unlike his autobiography,

Entitled ‘Who’...

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