When I think of that matchless night with your hideous face on the pillow your disgusting body spread eagled on my bed unwashed and rancid like stale fish stew I recall nothing but putrid filth and how the memory lingers on of your staggering halitosis flavours filthy foulness oozing from broken teeth and gum abscesses so deep no tongue could fully probe them without coming through the other side covered in warm pus and you left in the morning leaving my sheets looking like a patchwork quilt of many colours after having elegantly wolfed down a huge bacon and egg fry-up accompanied by loud squelchy farts presaging a dump in your knickers and you never even suggested we should have another date so that old story about the ugly ones being grateful is a load of ***** but I can't be too fussy really now I'm pushing eighty-eight.