…a peepin’….
…oh, no…wait…no there’s not.
…a peepin’….
…oh, no…wait…no there’s not.
…then Pete Gutteridge came thru the door in a far from coherent state… he’d not been able to sleep last night after dental surgery and needed herding towards my door (exit) and his bed (entry)….
…completely stuffed my train of thought…
…now I’m peeing green.
….(this doesnt even make a weak attempt at rhyme or rhythm)….
…(apologies to Edward Lear and poets everywhere)