I found this many years ago and – for some reason – kept it folded in the sleeve of the cover of my ID book. The little scrap of paper is now ragged and threadbare, so I thought I’d share the contents here and throw the paper away:
A backwards poet writes inverse.
A chicken crossing the road is poultry in motion.
You feel stuck to your debt if you can’t budge it.
He often broke into song because he couldn’t find the key.
Every calendar’s days are numbered.
A boiled egg in the morning is hard to beat.
He had a photographic memory that was never developed.
Bakers trade bread recipes on a knead to know basis.