Category: extra

WRUNG out the soaked, saturated
RAINY-raincoat, feeling choked, abnegated,
FRAIL and revoked, bifurcated, my
MANIA well and truly at work again.

STEIN (Rick Stein the chef, not the drink) came in for a
REFIT. Seems a bit of his aging anatomy – a
JOINT – had gone awry. No wonder he was
TESTY. Wait! Did he mean a joint he’d cooked?

PENNE is “an extruded type of pasta” best eaten in a
GLADE. It has “cylinder-shaped pieces,” which, with a
CRICK of the fork, you can flick hither and yon in a
MANLY way. “Their ends are cut at an angle.”

One
STILT for the one-legged
ABBOT to balance on. One
CHAIR for the Abbot to sit on, in
MAUVE, the Abbot’s number one colour.

FETCH! I yell at my mooching dog,
BERTHa. This no-longer-puppy is ever-the-
IDLER. She saunters round in her own
ORBIT. The stick lies stuck in the mud.

MISSY, I miss you a lot, my sunshine, moonshine
OVINE. This, your resting place, your supine space, midst yellow
BROOM – a kind of womb with heaps of room – where your
SOAPY wool now cools, while my soul’s a darkroom full of gloom.

STINT at nothing, bugler, as you blow that
BUGLE. Drive with vigour and with
RIGOUR a fine-honed, sharp-boned
WEDGE through the enemy’s heart.

VIVID is the picture of how late I’m going to be; the
IDLER on my ancient car is playing up – I know it wants to
TEASE me. No mechanic, I scratch my head, then
BELCH! Good old girl! The car is betterer again.

OWING to a PAUSE in the fall of the
POUND, I EXALT. This will deal with the
ARRAY of DEBITs in my portfolio. I
SING Exhaustingly, I GLOAT.