Well it's later than it earlier was and I still haven't managed a poemical writing. I have tried, honest to God, but it's harder than it looks. I think four lines is the maximum extent of my stanzitational field. In addition as well to this I am emburdened in extra with the added weight of a request indeed from Sir Allan of W, a noted econosportsman, decbankthlete and shouting-sideline proxyhooligan. It reads like thus:- Dear Richard Emmanuel Jones.....something about Idris.....blablabla........god he waffles doesn't he?........can you do us a poem about economics......er....something about water.....is he drunk?.....saltwater/freshwater economics.....he's on something this boy......preferably one about imperialist exploitation of leeward French Polynesian islands containing one profundity about the relative nature of wealth, and ending with a pun on the original Tahitian pronounciation of the aforementioned. In four lines. Please, Thankyou. Sir Allan of W.
Well Sir Allan of W! As I said I couldn't earlier, indeed I can, for counter-intuitively perhaps, the greater the specified rules, the lesser the work for the hand of the creator.....
In search of wealth, he went in stealth
By sea to Bora Bora.
He lacked the itch, to make him rich
So made the poorer poorer.
There you are Sir Allan of W. £12.50. Tenner for cash. Dilys the tax - only joking!