The Miracle of Boiler Poetry

It is as it says on the tin, ladies and gentlemen; I have long possessed the will, and the means, to produce poetry on the combi-boiler. The means however, are more complex than first they might appear. The semi-obsessive layering of magnetic words and letters is purely a basis for this delicate operation!

Bearing in mind the boiler is some 10 feet off the ground (I am almost 5ft 7" on a good day!) and located in the conservatory, this exercise involves heating up the little used radiator out there and hauling oneself atop a (rather tall and unstable) buffet, before waiting for one's muse to strike.

This makes the will for boiler poetry to exist all the more miraculous, I think. Although, it must be said, the boiler is above the beer cupboard, which, providing one remembers their bottle opener, is a plentiful source of...erm...inspiration.

Behold...a boiler poem...

Hands

Questions may now be asked...the most pertinent of which might be, why would you not do this on the fridge? Or more importantly, why do you not keep your beer in the fridge? I shall ease your minds...I have not lost mine. The conservatory is very cold without the radiator on...thus my beer is always cold (you may sleep easy tonight - no beer was abused in the making of boiler poetry). The fridge is one of those modern efforts that's hidden away in a kitchen cupboard...