Bachelor Bisazza should not spend a penny on fixing

his Disturbed Mother with grisly treatments: just

one $500 Freedom voucher would clean her up for days.

Look how she whips this poor boy of hers up to

a level of apathy so bad he is committed. His mother

is the first step to happiness in a world gone bad with

Satan’s vinyl depression. Consider the rule that sybaritic

fools require ease and expediency of use to be

desirable, these beauties, ergo, have a nasty case of mold.

.

The perfect woman is mildew-free and clear from clutter,

albeit most have madness issues. Vanities on the other hand

choose tall, slim, mobile junk to use in cesspools.

Beware: men love to look like skid-marks caught on lino.

Keep them out of the bathroom, they look cheap.

(The text from this poem comes entirely from an article of the same title in an issue of NZ House & Garden.)

————

Paul Giles is nothing more than a ridiculous boogeyman figure constructed to terrify students of English and fashionistas who can’t endure clothes that clash. The story goes that he was born in Papua New Guinea, raised in rural Australia, and now lurks in the shadows of the city of Seoul. Allegedly, his current interests include Vietnamese Tailoring, the Trashiest of K-Pop, and Writing Swear Words in Phonemic Script (fÊŒkÉ™n fÉ™ni:mɪk skrɪbt). Literarily speaking, he is said to write in the style of Men’s Health magazine, Engrish (particularly Chinglish), and people that don’t really know how to write properly.