<em>Love is biochemical, claim Pisa scientists, who observed that it resembled obsessive cleaning.

Shall I compare thee to Electrolux?

Or Spring, but with a feather duster thrown in?

My mop and bucket bring me to a crux:

It may be Jeyes, it may be serotonin.

Whichever, all this fluid in my veins

Excites me wildly. Both my hands are clammy.

Heart in a whirl, and blood inside my brains,

My darling, if you'll only share my chamois!

Bring out the scourer, let me scrub my tongue,

And let me brush your lips, salute your beauty:

Our continental bed has been re-sprung! Lust for my customs! Never mind your duty!

Let's change our gear - I feel my euros twirling -

And it's curtains, too, for love that's merely sterling