Curious you stroll the bay
Watching how the rich convey
Their class, inbred from St Tropez,
Around the yachts along the quai.
Their owners here to live the dream,
Success a proof of life supreme,
Brass and teak in lucent gleam,
Posed to capture our esteem.
Lean and bronzed and filmstar neat
Mesdames of certain age compete
With slinky-panty playboy meat
To give their man a lasting treat.
Goggling tourists ebb and flow,
Bulging waistlines, bums on show,
Graffitied bodies pinkly glow,
More Matalan than matelot.
Home they’ll go with erstwhile boast
Of jet-set chic, the wondrous coast,
The Bardot clone they loved the most —
Soon sadly fading fleeting ghost.