Gwyneth Paltrow's vagina beguiles,
bamboozles, torments and terrifies
me in equal measure, much like the notion
of Boris preparing to mount
one of his victims, or the British electorate.
I'm a man of science and statistics,
in a constant flux with deniers and sadistics.
Graphs are as graphic as candles are explosive
in the wrong hands.
Between fanny fumes and parliamentary lies
I've been knocked right off my axis...
... somewhere in row Z I'm floating around
with barely a chance of hanging on to something,
barely even a collision.
I've essentially evaporated
and it's all your bloody fault, VagBo.
There you go.
A mental image for these spurious times.
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