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In a pub – I occasionally frequent – t’other night
No sooner had I stepped inside
I heard – two usually charming – blue-rinses
Having imbibed three or four Guinness’s
Being told by the land-lord,
“Any more from you pair, you’re barred, tis bye-bye”
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A ruckus being replayed up on screen
Caused a bit of a Barney t’would seem?
On just…who was `the business`,
Forget football, finesse, fortunes, fitness?
We’re talking unrequited lust,
Passionate trysts, illicit liaisons and…dreams?
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Seems one gel plumped for Gigi Buffon
The other? Posturing peacock poseur El Ron
Watching a nigh ballistic Gigi
Scare the excrement out of the match referee
Gave Gigi’s gel, hot flushes considered long gone
Since… a seething Costa slung a bib at your man with aplomb.
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Buffon retiring early, to the dressing room bath
To shouts of, “Bleeping foreign referee’s avin a laugh”?*
Brought our focus on El Ron
His gel spurring him on,
“Score Ron score, get your top off, l’amour,
Go on…wave it around like a scarf”.
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The winning pen hit the net,
To screams of, “Jammy Portuguese get
Gigi would have saved that”, “Don’t talk daft,
Yeah if only…he wasn’t busy taking a bath”?
and two blues rinses at each other’s necks.
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Is this tale being told here, the truth?
It could be reader, I’ll leave that to you?
Though tis an odds-on certainty
Naming names could mean, curtains for me
See this pair are sisters, an a right double hand-full to boot.