I've been trying to think of the right word for two weeks. And then it hit me. It's fortnight.
Lot became naturally rather peeved/ When his sex life came to a halt./ Well, wouldn't you, when you had to make do/ With occasional pinches of salt?
Barry's student poem in the Leeds University magazine Poetry and Audience
A man is driving down a country lane and he runs over a cockerel. He goes to the farmhouse and knocks on the door. The farmer's wife answers, and the man says, ‘I appear to have run over your cockerel. Is there anything I can do to replace him?’
She says, ‘Well, please yourself.
