a celebrity chef from Bombay
wished his rivals would all go away
he cried I'll fry the lot
stuff them all in a pot
where the bastards can bloody flambé!
The stuff on this blog is poetry. It's not sudoku. You don't have to work anything out or look for any meaning. It's just images and sonics and poetry that is designed to be untranslatable. If you try to translate it it won't work. Just let it remain as poetry and it might just...
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