NINCOMPOOP

There is little I dislike more

Than a surge of adrenaline that inevitably

Turns me into

A sweaty, scatty, nincompoop

With tumbleweed-in-a tornado for brains.

If the Nervous Nincompoop Club need a spokesperson, I’m their girl!

Incoherent gabbling, smelly armpits and zoomies guaranteed.

Impeccable references, available upon request.

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