P. Proud, preposterous p.
I think if P were a person, he might be a pope.
Or possibly a proud policeman. Yes. A policeman.
Strutting up and down his street, periodically checking his pocket watch, the gold buttons on his uniform glittering.
He would carry a club of course, wielding it like a mother holding a baby.
He would love his club, and barely ever use it because it is so precious to him.
As he paced he would whistle a slight, lilting tune and nod at whoever passed by him.
He would be kind at heart, but one stern look from him would stop any hooligan in their tracks.
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