I’ll level with you, put ma’am on my radar and I’ll pop you into bed with Abba

A column to satisfy your inner grammar nerd

Beware of poems that come in the night. 

In my case that means beware the person who is in my company when I’ve crossed the half-a-glass-of-ethanol-too-many line and start hauling dusty old volumes of poetry off the shelf for tearful renderings of my half-remembered favourites...

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