I’ve been digging a tunnel from my living room to the warehouse of my local shop. Nothing sinister you understand I just don’t like paying for food.

I think my neighbors Mr and Mrs Jones are getting suspicious as the mound of earth in my back yard is now 40ft high and the second largest man made structure in my neighborhood.

I’ve taken to digging at night to avoid detection but one cave in resulted in the Smiths on Crimpton Streets garage and collection of farm memorabilia being swallowed in a hole so big locals have called it ‘that fucking great hole where the Smiths garage used to be’.

It took me 6 weeks to complete the tunnel. It now emerges in a vat of cheerios in a corner of the warehouse. I can slither my way from my house to the shop in roughly 15 minutes. So far I’ve taken 5 packs of Haribo Starmix, 1 copy of Chimping Weekly and 160 crates of Whiskey which I sold to the Albanian mafia in exchange for a rare copy of the Harold Marsh classic ‘oops Mrs Reilly your bums come off’ and a 17th century grumble mag.

Next week I plan on taking 4 tonnes of onions and selling to the Sicilians in exchange for a 18th century art pamphlet and a copy of ‘Whoops Aunty Gertrude I’ve accidentally rogered the chamber maid’

I will then plan one more heist before retiring to a small hut in the middle of a dark dark forest, in a dark dark land by a dark dark ocean.

That’s all that happened this week. Next I will be returning to my prize winning poetry series with a ditty about such and such.

Remember if you would like me to write a poem about any subject I’m open to commissions starting at a reasonable price. Maybe as a present for a hated relative or a lullaby for a creepy child. Check out my other works in my recent posts.

Toodaloo