Short, squat, and two-dimensional,
He lies in the gutter, clipboard
Once proud, now empty, its papers
Scattered and strewn about,
Decorating the grey pavement with
Tiny splashes of white, like
Dandruff on some bloke with
Really freaky hair that's kind of a
Dark grey tarmac-style colour, or maybe
Dandruff on the shoulders of someone
With a really natty suit. This man stills
Lies in the gutter, however, completely
Oblivious of the suits people are wearing as they
Pass by, natty or otherwise. Red
Comedy Y-fronts are all our man
Wears, his cute little bowler hat long
Gone, stolen by some seagulls no
Doubt. "Poor sod," says someone in
Passing. "Poor, yet clivingly handsome
Sod," Mr Pants says. "Still, bloody glad it
Wasn't me."