Readers Wives

Make a date with the brassy brides of Britain The altogether ruder readers' wives Who put down their needles and their knitting At the doorway to our dismal daily lives The fablon top scenarios of passion Nipples peep through holes in leatherette They seem to be saying in their fashion 'I'm freezing Charlie - haven't ya finished yet?' Cold flesh the colour of potatoes In an Instamatic living room of sin All the required apparatus Too bad they couldn't fit her head in In latex pyjamas with bananas going ape Their identities are cunningly disguised By a six-inch strip of insulation tape Strategically stuck across their eyes Wives from Inverness to inner London Prettiness and pimples co-exist Pictorially wife-swapping with someone Who's happily married to his wrist