I met Brian Blessed once at Sherwood Forest when he was filming episode 5 of 'Robin of Sherwood'. I was an extra back then and if you watch very closely I am the Norman who fights him at the portcullis only to get an arrow in my thigh by Robin the hoodeth man.

Blessed was a smelly foul bumptuous cretin who moaned all the time that he should have played the part of Billy Corkhill in Brookside but was considered too fat.

Too bloody rotund more like.

Lovely poem anyway it kind of celebrates the feminine aura.

I was wondering would you be so kind as to peruse my new poem based on upper class people conversing in a local convenience store.

Kind Regards

Laurence Piggott-Smythe.

Fucking brilliant

Last line's pretty funny

Which part of Mr Blessed? His arsehole? Or his face?