Let me tell you about Philipa and Tony
They found their love upon the internet
She didn’t know he dressed up like a Pony
He didn’t know she was a vet, and yet,
They hit it off , and how! And now you:
Couldn’t say their social life has stalled.
I hear she entered him in the Derby,
And half of the spectator’s were appalled.
The rest, applauded!
Let me tell you about Cressida and Arthur
Or as they prefer online to known
The Lady Vampiresta Metacarphur,
Yes, they had a thing for royalty, and snobbery
it can be nigh a sin, but Cressida was in it for the
Bloodlines, and Arthur ‘she’ was in it for the gin, that’s a win!
There’s a lot to be said for tradition, even if you make it
up yourself: you’ll find them in Debrett’s Swimsuit Edition,
And it’s grand they didn’t end up on the shelf.
Let me tell you about Cuthbert, George, and Milly,
At the heart of an polyamorous array: it started out
All tentative and silly, and ended with them making a display
In Selfridge’s window: in which their posing was cute
and sold, untold numbers of furcoats and ice-cubes
(and the Police, though called, decline to prosecute).
Yes, there are tales that didn’t end so neatly,
And on them I do not intend to dwell, there’s been
Betrayal and pain, long before language, you needn’t
Blame the internet as well.