Topless

There's been a tiny storm in a microscopic teacup these last few days - yes, I refer to the the furore over Waity-Katy Middleton's unfortunate encounter with a photograther's longe-range lens while on holiday.

Topless

There was a young Duchess called Kate,

Who suffered a terrible fate.

A photographer not loyal,

Took long-shots of the royal,

And the pictures were shown in the Tate. 

Her husband realised it was silly,

To get so het up all willy-nilly,

When he thought of his mother,

And Prince Harry his brother,

Who in Las Vegas showed off his willy. 

I know this story at your heartstrings tugs:

Now they’re selling commemorative mugs.

Despite Harry’s injunction,

I can’t see the function,

Of a pair of matching porcelain jugs. 

Into farce this story starts to tipple:

Not so much a great wave, as a ripple

But as you’ve probably guessed,

There’s great public interest,

In the sight of a future Queen’s nipple.

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012