(Following on from the Luke Wright outburst on poetry in adverts, I thought I would offer my commission to Dyson if they were inclined to use this.)

We trudged round Designer Outlet

A day full of dull misery

I’d sampled a few cups of coffee

Which meant that I needed a pee.

I nipped to the public convenience

And read all the ads on the wall

Avoiding the one on Viagra

(A bloke was in the next stall).

But then as I left the urinals

I heard from the Ladies next door

The sound of a Dyson Airblade

Making its motorised roar.

I checked in my tracks for a second

And thought, “Am I missing a trick?”

I thought that the Dyson Airblade

Was put there for drying your prick.