I fancied some titilating photos
so I went on an upskirting hunt
I didn’t really care about consent,
that’s if I’m being blunt
I came across Sir Christopher
and thought I’d have a punt
I’d capture a peek of his private parts,
I’d chortle and I’d grunt
It seemed to me a great idea,
a harmless and witty stunt
But what was the image my camera showed?
A big, wet, swollen, vulgar affront
This poem was published on Poetry24 on 19 June 2018.
