Magnetic Poetry is something of a contradiction in terms. Rhyming words are provided for the budding Wordsworths, but everyday wordsmiths are more likely to produce prose instead of verse - smut, nonsense and smutty nonsense are safe bets - with the small magnetic sentence sections. The Original Edition contains a wide range of vocabularic nuggets, as if one of the dictionary dollies on Countdown had rolled up her sleeve, sunk elbow-deep into the Concise Oxford and pulled out several handfuls of verbs, nouns and the other kinds of words.
And then there's the Erotic Edition. Ripe with vulgarity, barefaced innuendo and words describing toilet parts, the possibilities are brow-moisteningly saucy. Words such as 'between', 'gush' and 'heavy' accompany cruder terms like 'full', 'put' and 'glisten'. Then there are positively disgusting words like 'warm', 'spray' and 'apparatus'. There are several words that we are prevented from mentioning because this is being written before the 9pm watershed. What's the sound you can hear? It's Benny Hill and Kenneth Williams turning in their graves.
Needless to say, the fridge is the natural home of Magnetic Poetry (strange, then, how the pieces aren't there to make up the phrase 'stop drinking my milk, you thieving tightwad') but it will also stick to any steel surface. Just remember that elderly relatives and landlords may not want to be greeted by the declaration that 'he craves dirty warm jiggle lava' when they next enter the kitchen.