mr improper bends down slowly,
the whisk glinting in his left hand.
glint,
glint,
glint,
there is a soft plopping sound,
as he whisks the batter.
whisk,
whisk,
whisk,
''oh''he sighs,''one pancake or two?''
his voice barely louder,
than the whispering of his silk-stocking clad thighs.
''im really a little lamb!would you like to see my hanging basket?its got petunias,lovely pink ones...''
sadly there is no time.
mr improper has just burnt his pancakes.
''OH NO!''
he bursts into tears,blowing his nose on his white silk nightie.
you catch a glimspe of his mickey mouse undies,
this sends you into a frenzy!

* * * * *

when you wake up the next morning there is a broken courgette in your left hand , and a smiling mr improper dangling above your head from a hanging basket.
you are far from surprised to notice half a courgette potruding cheerfully from his.....................

ooh my mothers calling me.....
ill have to leave the rest to your fruitful imaginations.