Strephon & Phyllis: a tale of modern romance
Strephon flicked through his phone to the live-dating app
As he scrolled through the names and the nonsense and pap.
He swore he'd find one for a funky night out
(Though fat chicks and those over 30 were right out).
Through selfies and poutings and duck face he scrolled -
Too chubby - too skinny - too squinty - too old -
He would Try Hard and Die Hard, (an iPhone Bruce Willis)
When just then he alit on the page of fair Phyllis.
A radiant vision she seemed to his eyes,
A glorious Goddess in mere mortal guise -
Strephon knew in a flash he was on to a winner:
Perhaps he could even invite her to dinner.
Poor Strephon knew not of the magic of Cupid -
How one blow with his bow could send normal men stupid.
For Strephon, of course, the case was quite dire -
His head was awhirl and his heart was afire...
As Strephon held Phyllis in tremulous gaze,
He scratched at his bum in a rapturous craze
And thought of the ways he would Phyllis enamour:
How could he convince this fair maid of his amour?
Win her and bring her to the temple of Venus?
"I know", Strephon thought. "I'll show her my penis.
One pic of my dick which I'll slyly embiggen
So it outranks in grandeur the willy of Smiggin -
Yes, this surely is the true way to her heart -
An image of my most masculine part.
A young, virile member - not a palsied old todger
Like that that belongs to that old codger Roger.
Yes, this is my plan and it's done in a tick -
I'll flick some random chick a pic of my dick."
And as for what next - Strephon was not concerned -
'Twas no matter, surely - not while his heart burned!
And shortly, his wang was winging its way
On wireless ether to her Message tray.
Just what do you feel after such correspondence?
Hopeful? Or anxious? Or full of despondence?
Not Strephon: our hero was full of calm self-collection
After mailing his mail of his male part's .... affection.
He was not depressed, for he knew she'd be true,
The one in receipt of his cock billet doux.
But Strephon could not help but shout with elation
When the phone in his pocket gave welcome vibration -
He whips out his phone with a whimpering sigh!
He presses the button to see her reply!
"O Goddess!" he murmurs with votary air,
"I see at long last you have answered my prayer!"
And he gazes in trance, with his whole body tingling
For Phyllis has answered with a snap of a.... dingaling:
Yes, someone's John Thomas: right there on his screen -
A random guy's noodle: it's frankly obscene!
And then - what the Dickens? A second dick pic -
Strephon murmured aghast, "Gee, this chick is sick!"
As if not content with that paltry selection,
It soon became clear Phyllis had a collection,
A torrent of sausages, hot dogs and saveloys,
Kranskys, frankfurters, salamis and bitsofboys,
A series of revellers in full Saturnalia,
A party of parts and of male genitalia.
Strephon switched his phone off - but that wasn't enough -
For he saw in his minds eye those groins in the buff,
A priapic cavalcade, pixelised, gleaming,
They marched through his mind in the midst of his dreaming -
The todger of Roger in front of the rest:
Now Strephon is moody and sad and depressed,
And questions and worries his nervous mind cumber -
Like "Shit that weird Phyllis chick's now got my number!"
And worse yet - poor Strephon can't shake the suspicion
His photographed phallus has been made an addition
To Phyllis's library of penile pics -
MORAL: don't flick some random chick a pic of your dick.