Written by George Fripley
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Monday, 16 November 2009

Today is the 200th anniversary of the death of the Welsh poet Dai Laffin.

This much maligned and forgotten poet left the earth on this day in 1809. He had many, many poems in his repertoire, most of which respectable publishers identified as the crap that they were. He did manage to get a few past the editors of some less than well-known papers, but none made any impact on the world of poetry in any way whatsoever.

His greatest moment came when, at age 50, he read his seminal poem, Ode to Love, at the annual meeting of Select Officers of Distinguished Society, also known as the SODS, in the City of Westminster. He had only made it through the first verse when many women fainted. He ploughed on regardless, and in the ensuing riot he was beaten to death. An irate matron, who stamped on him with her sensible shoes, also pummeled him to a coma with her bible.

His friends and family rushed to his bedside; however, he remained in a coma for many weeks. In desperation, they tried reading some of his poetry to him hoping that this would bring him back to consciousness. Unfortunately it had the opposite effect, and he went into cardiac arrest as soon as the first line of one of his poems was read.

The epitaph On his tombstone reads. Dai Laffin, the POSH SODS finally got him.

Ode To Love

As I stare captivated by your beautiful deep brown eyes,
And tell you that they remind me of a faultless sunrise,
I really can't quite adequately disguise,
That they really make me think about your faultless inner thighs.

As you smile at me with your lovely luscious lips,
And I gush that they'd launch a thousand ships,
They really send me on orgasmic ripe trips,
Dreaming all the while about your curvilicious hips.

Next time I compliment you, and say you're the best,
And that my heart melts, I'm sure you'll have guessed,
That I'm hoping like hell that I can see you undressed,
And that I'm really drooling over your melonous breast.

(Dai Laffin 1759 - 1809)

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The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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