both cerebral and amusing.
We traded rhyme and coffee time,
in a manner most unbruising.
A brightly lit room, we slayed autumn's gloom
and duelled with words and meaning.
Then after a break, re-sharpened the stake
and did it once more, with feeling.
Round the planet in one night,
on a Wirral Line zone ticket.
Dodging Chinese mother-in-laws, poisoned soup, talking doors,
batting sibling rival's sticky wicket.
The Knights of the Horseshoe table returned from Kent,
chivalry unspent, but geography in defeat.
They reached Singapore, but will travel no more;
They only wanted Liverpool, James Street...