This is the second poem written on this rather interesting theme and it followed on quite quickly from the first. K initially failed to acknowledge these poems, which I had sent to him in N.E Lincolnshire, UK, from my home in The Canary Isles, and I had put this down to his mild tendency to absent mindedness. However, when I was able to tackle him, during one of my frequent – (though not frequent enough) – visits to his home, he told me that he had intended to respond in ‘kind’.

MORAL OF THE STORY - You can choose your friends but not your relatives.

A Gift Too Far.

 ‘Well proportioned colostomy bag…’
The advert read in the local rag,
‘Is neatly tailored and fairly sound…’
Yet odd to see in the ‘Lost and Found’!

‘With a little clean up,’ thought Richard,
‘Possible gift for Dad’s sixty-third’
Not always a very big spender
Then neither was his sister, Brenda.

Added-value would sweeten the pot,
High-tech. add-ons would not cost a lot.
She’d decorate with no objections
If he would fit the cardboard sections.

Largely cleared of residual mould,
Finished, at last – a sight to behold.
A zipped division to hold his change,
Though in that spot still a hint of mange.

A calculator and file-o-fax
All separate with cards in their packs,
Condoms and Izal discretely placed –
All closed deftly with draw-cords of lace.

Dad would be delighted, thought the two,
But did not bargain for what he’d do:
Wholesale changes Dad made with rigour,
Then stuffed the pouch with grams of Digger.

(With apologies to any manufacturers of toilet paper and tobacco products mentioned.)