It started with flying polar bears, and now we have tortoises with briefcases. Where will it end, I ask, just where will it end?
A tortoise with a briefcase…
A tortoise with a briefcase was waiting for the bus,
Running late, no time to waste, he began to fuss,
He paced and paced, panicking, marching to and fro
This took a while you realise – tortoises are slow.
Noticing the time and that there were no buses soon,
I asked him when he was meant to be wherever he was due,
The time he said was ten thirty, and that seemed fine to me,
Until he added “on June the twelfth, twenty eighty three.”
