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Mr Dennis...what the Dickens is going on...the inevitability.. menace 

Of celebrities on every terrace at the tennis..

The profanity and insanity of rampant vanity..

The gist..a D list tryst to bathe in the narcissist mist..  

Rich pickings at.. every look at me.. Wimbledon balcony..

 
Phew..is it too late for me lanky mate Stew..

Can't be ignored...a SW19 ticket you scored..

Hard to beat....pip..a meet and greet with the cheat elite..

Don't scoff...hats do doff...before we skip off on a toff trip to Crete..


Give me a hanky...gone a bit swanky.. wa**y...

Great..hanging out...lurking on board with the flawed fraud..

Applaud the encored smirking adored or abhorred hoard

Of bored.. made up Yankee dolls and molls that toured

Did maraud rather than explored abroad...


Thought your were berserking..working class..

Not the farce of up its own a**e..shirking VIP pass..


Cos not banging on...eyes roll....taking its toll...

Not being drole..but only the proles at the polls..

Can stop the troll vitriol scrolls...and save our souls..


P.S  just for you Stew..an ickle fickle tickle josh.. off my trolley volley..rhyming sickle...about you at some jolly posh tosh.. in a golly gosh wally folly pickle..

But still.. luv you bruv..

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