The pattern's no mightier than the "Welly" But the brogue's fetid leather is far more smelly. As for the cad in red poulaines? Cast him to the gaol in chains! He's a silly apish jester Whose shoes allow his corns to fester. He knows well no man of brains Would ever wear his foul poulaines Except perhaps the mummified remains Of the foppish Maynard Keyes: http://tinyurl.com/4zf4j

How dare you enter into conversation, With an gentleman so above your station, This is not a meritocracy, I am from better stock you see. Poulaines are ace, for a court jester, Or indeed the Earl of Leicester, But not for me those pointy jokes, Commonly worn by poorer folks, Best left for the poorer squires, Who own not half the shires, Wear them please, you lowly clerks, For those in the pages of Burkes, Kniow to wear a shoe of such decor, That people like you will fall to the floor, And kiss the brogue of a Lord and Knight, Know thee now, the patterns might.

I seem to have had a brain fart there.

You are the matted milk in burt's stache.

No; a better comment would be "That's a convoluted sentence." I wouldn't bother trying to draw naughty analogies with mathematics. In fact, the best comment of all would be "bow'ls". As for the original point of this discussion, which was that ace poetes make ace critics, I tend to agree. By "critic" I don't mean someone who writes about poemes, slagging them off with panache, or praising their "frustratingly oblique irresolution". I simply mean someone who knows cack writing when they see it. I think the first step towards being an ace poete is to have ace taste in poemes. If you didn't have good taste, your haphazard guff splats would be bizarre mixtures of random geniusness, and mediocre fiddle-faddle. They'd be raging cow pats of insanity - peradventure the odd, flukey slice of splendid cow; the rest? Pat!

The arbitrariness of number of negatives did cross my mind. The comment about zodiac's sentence being overcomplicated remains though. Perhaps a better criticism would be that if the sentence were an equation it would require further simplification.

I disagree with you on the bow'ls thing. Consider the sentence: "It is sunny." It doesn't contain any 'negatives' in your sense of the word. But it is semantically identical to: "It is not overcast." Does that mean it contains a negative? No. The fact that "bow'ls" can mean "incorrect" doesn't mean you're being redundant if you say "It is not bow'ls". Your use of "incorrect" as the interpretation of "bow'ls" is slightly arbitrary as far as the number of 'negatives' is concerned. You could equally interpret "bow'ls" as meaning "positively bumcombe!". That doesn't have any 'negatives'. Do you get what I'm saying?

My use of one referring to 'anybody who wanted to comprehend the sentence' is perfectly valid. I suggest if you believe the use of 'one' and other pomposities on this site is to make the writer appear scholarly then it is you who are the dim. 'That Roger Ebert is anything other than ass hat is bow'ls' can reasonably be translated as 'that Roger Ebert is not (negative) ass hat is incorrect'. Your use of bow'ls is only ever used when you disagree with a statement. It is therefore logical through induction to assume that your understanding of bow'ls is 'I believe that to be incorrect.' Final point. I could tell you I studied reason and argument and got a first for the module, but a more chilling reposte to your boast would be that we have a doctor on this site. And his name is doug.

Bestill your wobbling, sagging jowls: Ne'er ever have I heard such bow'ls! An Gentleman, of sound descent, Would ne'er his poor sole torment With brogueish cloggs of sullied leather, Nor Wellingtons (save, in wet weather). Sturdy shoes, though they may be, An Gentleman's foot gets no reprieve: So long as blood runs through his veins He'll wear a brace of exquisite poulaines!

Any gentleman worth his salt, Would not the Wellington exalt, Knowing they're for the tenant farmer, To act as gumboot, pigshit armour. His lordship does not condescend, To wear boots you can bend, Prefering the stiffness of a brown shoe, Coated in a patterned tatoo.

You may think that you are "en vogue" On account of sporting a brand new brogue; But the gentleman cares not for fashion. In fact, he hates it with a passion; For he knows 'tis just for gays Who skip around the town for days Whilst wearing brogues and pink carnations And suffering from rectal complications. The gentleman likes to wear a "Welly" Whether in Singapore or fair New Delhi. There's nothing that him more perplexes Than the fashion for brogues 'mongst hemasexes.

Wellington boots are an abomination, Making clear your lowly station, And upon further investigation, It appears your overly fond of masturbation, And of homsexual orientation, The National Aeronautics and Space Administration, Do not from the Wellington boot draw inspiration, No, Nay, Nor for education, Unless bearing brogued decoration.