The Sausage-Dangling Championships
take place in Venezuela.
The contest starts when someone farts
into a big loud-hailer.
They dangle them from balconies,
they dangle them from towers
and if the wind blows violently
they suffer sausage showers.
The sausages get sick of it;
the constant, wobbly dangling.
In fact, the very thought of it
will set their nerves all jangling.
So come the revolution, it may
pay you to remember
a very angry sausage always
has its own agenda.
Louisa Campbell hangs around English spa towns. She has realised that life is silly, but important, and she is very happy about that. Published here and there, her first pamphlet will soon be out with Picaroon Poetry.