You’re a self-confessed millionaire .
You drive a shitty white station wagon.
You ride a shittier scooter.
You wear a helmet and painting face mask when you ride it.
You make me laugh.
You make me want to punch you in the face.
You tried, and failed to get the phone number of my female flatmate.
You tell them you’re a millionaire.
You are not.
You are A
Lying, wonky wagon driving, scabby scooter riding, race car painting mutation, of hilliarious proportions.
I want to beat you,
Just a little.
Stop perving on my flatmates!
Strangely enough,
Fat deluded old men aren’t their type.
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