by Kevin Paylor

Taste buds annihilated by liberal partaking of snuff; also a prime candidate to represent Team GB when smoking is elected as a future Olympic sport.
Gnashers not only a testament to teething but dictated by past juvenile exuberance of biting off bottle tops and altercations with New York Dockers.

Indeed lack of incisors etc. denoting objections to Cosmetic torture of dentistry. By definition I not only eat my food but chomp merrily.
A meal ranging from my wife’s authentic Catalan Paellas with attention of detail to delight, to my own characteristic Post-Modern lack of self-conscious minimal punk culinary messes.
To me a Doner Kebab is an exquisite rite of passage. The voluptuous tapered contours of stripped golden-brown succulence.
The taste of Electric-Blue, followed by a bronze study of a ravenous crimson moment.
The all in condiments wrestle in my mouth to a pri-Jack then submission of a sated lust of appetite.

Indeed Pretty Vacant!

© Kevin Paylor, 2016