A bag of mince

This all staffer e-mail from Richard Harris (no not that one) tickled my fancy. You can tell Richard is a literary gent.

“There is a big bag of Lidl mince in the car park.
Bust open.
It smells of despair and self-loathing
Soon foxes or ragged crows will come to feast on it.
I didn’t bin it in case it was someone’s forgotten lunch.”

This is poetry.

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