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Felix Dennis
January 24, 2007
Mandalay, Mustique
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‘Who says that I am in denial?
It’s no one who knows me—
Some scribbler in a smart-arse rag,
Some wanker on TV?’

There’s not so many scribblers now,
The truths sell too few ads,
We much prefer a perfect smile
To cater to our fads.

‘And what’s denial, I like to know,
Another fancy word
For lying through your bloody teeth?
Well I’m no lying turd.’

Three monkeys sat upon a book
To stop it being read,
The one to caper, one to guard,
And one to rip and shred.

‘I’ll tell you what denial means,
Not counting what they stole,
Some thieving, idle immigrant—
His hands out for the dole.’

We learn to shun reality
When dancing on the brink;
But then, perhaps we always did,
But not so much, I think.