THE SUNBATHER'S TALE
by
Paul Wilkinson
It was sometime last year that it happened
A hot, balmy day in late May.
I lie!... it must have been August
'Cos the wife and the kids were away.

I was thinking I'd go in the garden
And sunbathe awhile, on the grass
With a good slap o' factor fifteen on
And a butty, a fag and a glass.

So, I'm sitting there, readin' the paper
In me vest and me shorts, on the lawn
When I happened to notice our neighbour
Lying naked!... as t'day she was born.

At that very moment, she happened to turn
As she reached for 'er sun tanning cream,
And seeing me sitting not twelve foot away
Well... She let out this loud, piercing scream.

'You dirty old bugger!' she shouted
Can no woman sunbathe in peace?
Are women not safe from old lechers like you?
That's it... I'm calling the police!'

Well... they gave me a right dressing down when they came
No matter how much I protested.
'We've had blokes like you at the station before,
Once more... and we'll have you arrested!'

The following week, it was sunny again
And I'm thinking, 'It's not bloody fair!'
So I peeped through the curtains, just to make sure
That the woman next door wasn't there.

Well, her garden was totally empty,
So I though, 'Right... I'll 'ave a repose.'
So grabbing the lounger from out of the shed,
I quickly stripped off... all my clothes.

So I'm lying there... gently basting
Wearing nowt but me factor fifteen,
When all of a sudden... from somewhere next door,
I heard that familiar scream!

'You dirty old bugger!' she ranted
'Can we not clean our windows in peace?
Is no woman safe from old flashers like you?
That's it... I'm calling the police!'

The end