Yes. It’s me, I’m afraid. Hello. As you’ve heard no doubt, Pensen’s in prison so I’m standing in.
I’m Edward Bearnaise (the band’s hubsman, as Pensen opportunes to describe me) and I’m feculently rich – but please don’t despise me for that. Despise me for this: I quasi-legally avoid all taxes, I subsist on a strict ortolan-only diet and I rape and kill Estonian prostitutes (paying for sex just repels me). But, to the point!
Last night the 37th annual Limerick Orgy was held, as is traditional, in the War Rooms under Whitehall. It’s always a convivial occasion, this Judaeo-Celtic festival, as nice, fresh, tight poesy is passed informally from mouth to mouth. Last night’s really was quelque chose d’of a doozy. Old ‘Gramsci’ Pensen has insisted that I regale you with some of (as he’s scrawled it here on the reverse of a Her Majesty’s Prisons Gross Anal Harm Complaints Form) “yestreen’s tonguestorms”.

This is by Joy Stein:

The liberal surveying his war
(I speak of war, natch, far ashore)
Pipes, "Boo-hoo for dead bodies,
But the Baddy, by God, he's
Killed HUMANS and we must kill more!"

This by Pensen:

"I can resist all but temptation,"
Wilde said to Shaw. Then, with elation,
"When I see a penis
My thoughts soon turn heinous-"
- "Dear Oscar! Too much information!"

This was by Jack Nestle (who was drunk before anyone arrived) and was entitled "The Ballad of The Wests":

Whilst Fred was sat planning a caper,
Rose queried from behind her paper,
"What will you do
With that girl in the loo?"
- "Not sure, love...I'll probably rape her."

Before he staggered home to throw up in his tropical fish tank, we were treated to:

I prefer Ethiopian maids.
I assure you the thrill never fades.
There's ONE minor defect
(it's otherwise PERfect):
I seem to have contracted AIDS.

Now, time for a second lunch - there's a poor, defenceless delicacy with my fork in it. I'll be back though. Don't think I won't.