Readers Wives

Make a date with the brassy brides of Britain

The altogether ruder readers' wives

Who put down their needles and their knitting

At the doorway to our dismal daily lives

The fablon top scenarios of passion

Nipples peep through holes in leatherette

They seem to be saying in their fashion

'I'm freezing Charlie - haven't ya finished yet?'

Cold flesh the colour of potatoes

In an Instamatic living room of sin

All the required apparatus

Too bad they couldn't fit her head in

In latex pyjamas with bananas going ape

Their identities are cunningly disguised

By a six-inch strip of insulation tape

Strategically stuck across their eyes

Wives from Inverness to inner London

Prettiness and pimples co-exist

Pictorially wife-swapping with someone

Who's happily married to his wrist