Wot A Stunna!
The Sun is to end its 44-year
flirtation with topless pictures of girls on Page 3
Looks like the country’s going to the dogs,
And the reason for that’s easy to see -
The end of a British institution:
No more topless shots on Page three!
White Van Man can no longer have a gander,
Upon his ogling they’ve put the mockers,
Unable to stare at a starlet’s assets,
Nor gaze with wonder at her large knockers.
Uncle Rupert has decided to call time -
See the shock-wave, as outwards it ripples,
Catching up with the twenty-first century,
And a covering-up of the nipples.
Family values will now lead the way,
And the number of boobs will be far less.
The feminist campaign’s won a victory,
The young ladies will no longer go bra-less.
Yes, the whole business is going tits-up,
A more respectable kind of fun,
So - less jollity, but more equality,
You’ll find in your super, soar-away Sun.
So it can come down from the top shelf,
A publication with rather more poise.
An end to all of the wolf-whistling,
And requests to “get them out for the boys!”
It’s the end of an age, turning the page,
So it’s now time for me to summarise:
Good-bye to the curls, farewell to the girls,
And thanks for all of the mammaries.
No comments:
Post a Comment