I've now sent at least five submissions to Poetry and had not a whiff, so they're obviously a fat shower of bollards or barmaids or bumplugs or buzzards or whatever it is Quincy was getting at. What's rude about a bastard? I'm a bastard. Blame the parents. The alternative term, whoreson, seems less fortunate to me. I'm chairing a reading next week, and if Ian Parks and/or Alan Jenkins get naked and roll around on the floor I'll not be 'appy.
Last edited by Rory Waterman; 11-02-2011 at 09:23 PM.
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