I asked you for the recipe for Lettuce Diabolical;

You turned away and shrugged as if the question was rhetorical.

Your life is filled with every contradiction and perversity,

For one who boasts diplomas from a leading University.

Your shoes, one red one black, suggest a failing in your sanity

And yet the way those babies strut proclaims your cocksure vanity.

You mentally worked pi out using only roman numerals;

You’ve ordered two wild zebras to be present at your funeral;

You speak in fluent gaelic with the accent of a Mexican

Though often your vocabulary’s not from any lexicon.

You took me on a rowboat sail one night on Lytham boating lake;

We drank Tequila Sunrise as we waited for the dawn to break.

You ride a unicycle whilst you juggle with live hand grenades;

Your sexist sense of humour puts you right up there with Andy Gray;

Your mind is often devious and bordering on criminal;

Your perfume lingers everywhere, so subtle and subliminal.

You follow projects through like an Islamic fundamentalist

Although as your religion you claim guarded existentialist.

Your entourage adore you though admittedly they’re mostly men.

My birthday card was late this year – you said you’d missed the post again.