Competition: Funny valentine

In Competition No. 2735 you were invited to take as your first line ‘My love is like a [fill in blank]’, and continue, in light verse.

Amid the ailments — ‘a drippy nose’, ‘a whooping cough’; the animals — ‘a three-toed sloth’, ‘a sea urchin’; and foodstuffs galore: ‘ripe Gorgonzola’, ‘ a tub of lard’, ‘a rack of ribs’, Bridget Rees’s inventive opening impressed: ‘My love is like a — do you know,/ I don’t know what he’s like!/ I thought I knew for twenty years/ And then he took a hike…’ Honourable mentions, too, to Max Ross and Adam Campbell. The winners get £25 each. Basil Ransome-Davies nets £30.

My love is like a matelot,
Her language strong and salty,
A cold shower for my libido.
My love’s like Sybil Fawlty.

My mental millpond brims with dreams
Of nudeness and vajazzle,
But nothing drowns a voice that screams
At harpy volume ‘Basil!’

My love is like a lethal quiz,
My dipsomania chronic.
If Sybil is the question, is
The answer gin and tonic?

Most popular

Rod Liddle

British Steel and the death of dim-witted globalisation

My love leaks grimness on the scale
Of Whistler’s bleedin’ mother.
My love is like an epic fail.
I ought to find another.
Basil Ransome-Davies

‘My love is like a violin,’
The fiddler said with sheepish grin.
‘Slim waist, broad hips, and ‘neath my chin
Nestles at ease.’
 
‘My love,’ declared the girl in yellow,
‘Is like my old and trusty ’cello.
I like to have a meaty fellow
Between my knees.’
 
‘Mine,’ said the second clarinet,
‘Is tall and slim and black as jet.
He gurgles with good handling, yet
He’s hard to please.’
 
The organist joined in the game:
‘My love, I fear, is great of frame,
But great of soul, and does the same
As all of these.’
Noel Petty

My love is like a prickly pear
Beneath her silky underwear.
She boasts a picture of Anubis
Tattooed upon her stubbled pubis.

She gargles Smirnoff, crashes cars,
Recurrently starts fights in bars
And when out of her skull on drugs
Can beat to pulp Glaswegian thugs.