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Pea and Honey Recipes
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I Eat My Peas With Honey
And tales of derring-do.
Four lines, they can be rhyming
(That's Glow Worms to me and you).
Ending line is as usual.
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My salary ?   I spent the lot !
Now I'm homeless, old and bust
When you've got money, spend it all!
For saving's just for fools
So live your life, and have a ball
Hidden text[p. me, N, S] I liked the last one a lot.
Be flagrant with the rules! [Phil] me too.
Poor I was born, and poor I'll die
But in the years between
My riches, they will hit the sky
-- Until my kid's a teen.
A rainy Thursday morning
Dull and wet and cool
Is ideal for a bike ride
By a lycra-bedecked fool.
So what's the point of planning
When the weather lets you down
I planned to lie there tanning
But I'm soaking wet, not brown.
A frabjous day is dawning
So sing "Callooh! Callay!"
And heed no empty warning
Too sunny for making hay.
I'm seeking new employment
I don't care what I do
My main aim is enjoyment
And a fag-break in the loo.
Bank Holidays are all too few
And all too soon are over
I waste it lazing - oh, don't you?
Or rolling in the clover
I wish I were a saucepan trad.
With a tightly-fitting lid
My contents all a-boiling
Though from view it's hid
I wish I had a pony tail
'Cos frankly I'm an ugly sod
Hidden text(Phil) Oi! But for half the width of a road I'm in Croydon.
Who loves a good updo
The stain is there for all to see
Its cause not hard to guess
I've scrubbed until my hands are raw
With a cold compress.
[KS] You were a syllabubble short, m'dear. No matter.
'Get out, damn spot! Get out!' I cry
So much for dry cleaning (pen) The line can be stretched, just about, and it doesn't offend me. If it doesn't offende me it won't offend anybody, will it?
I'll soak it in ammonia
Then stand there, pants down, queening.
With copper, mangle, Reckitt's Blue
Wash day is a breeze
Hang them out, come rain or shine
'Tho it crucifies my knees
Blacking grates and mangling sheets
The joys below the stairs
The parquet's scarred by hobnail cleats
But no-one down here cares. Insurrection from the staff...
Rise e'er the dawn, to clean the hearths
That's Cinderella's fate
Then light the fires, and run the baths
And don't stay out too late.
The clocks are chiming midnight
But the sun shines overhead
The birds are sleeping in their trees
For now's the day we wed!
I wish I were a Jabberwock
A flame-eyed whiffling thing
But I am just a jubjub bird
And so, on that, I'll sing.
But if I were a bandersnatch
To spot me you'd be quick
For much like Mr Cumberbatch
I'm really rather slick
It fails to pass this simple test
It's neither flesh nor fowl
So now we feel it's prob'ly best
To euthanise your owl
I wish I were a dodgy spiv
With fag from mouth a-dangling
I wouldn't have a damn to give
My coat with coins a-jangling.
The teams are gathering in Brazil
To kick a ball around
Will our team really have the will?
I might just bet a pound.
I root against the English team
Their chances I don't fancy much
I think they may run out of steam
And so I'll bet upon the Dutch.
[S,p,Ro,Ra] Very nice. It was only on the 3rd reading that I realised you were probably referring to football, as I was thinking about cricket. It still works though.
So far Brazil has all the goals
Said some deluded fool
Defensively they're full of holes
Like bras in Samba Schools - e.g. this (NVSFW)
I wish I were the scoresheet
I'd tally up your points
You're very fine statistically
Top marks for double joints
I wish I had my mother's eyes
I'd keep them in this jar (had to go that way really...)
Their glassy stare reminding me
How she'd beat up poor pa-pa
I wish I had my brother's knees
For mine are old and dodgy
His look really good in tights
While I wear trews quite stodgy.
I used to have my uncle's teeth
Displayed upon the wall
I little plaque sat underneath
Which said, in letters small ... (to be continued)
"These teeth were once the pride and joy
Of my dear old Uncle Rolf
Alas, he doesn't need them now
He lost them playing golf."
That reminds me of a favourite Knock-Knock joke:
"knock knock"
Who's there?
"Adolf"
Adolf who?
"Adolf ball mhitmph me in mthme mmouthm"
I wish I were a hacksaw I'd like to hear you say that, pen.
To cut these prison bars
I'd really be a dashing blade
Just like those scimitars

I eat my peas with Hollandaise
Even when the dish is pork
I've done so all my lifelong days
It keeps them on the fork.

[Declaring a "peas" cascade]
I eat my peas with mustard
Washed down with lemonade Declaring an 'Unusual Eating Implements Parallel Cascade' too.
I tried them once with custard
They still fell off the spade. Will that do, pen?
[Rosie] What a slendid birthday present. You delivered in spades, ta v much!
I eat my peas with Marmite
Which Ma might say is messy
But oh :  the umami's so right
But still I look a jessie
I eat my peas with relish
It's fluorescent yellow
The egg-spoon that I eat them with
I stole from some poor fellow.
I like my peas reet mushy
For I'm a northern lad
To those wha claim it's grim oop here (apologies for clunky accent)
Ah'll tell 'ee, tha's bin had!
They're holding pea stalks as we speak
We're hoping there won't be a leek
Of a limerick style
Because in a while
Someone will give us a tweak
I wish I had the muscle
To lift this pile of bricks
But sadly I'm a wimpy man
With arms and legs like sticks
I wish I were a spaceman
I'd float around all day
Until my tank of oxygen
Had leaked my air away.
I wish I were eighteen again
But knew all I now know
I'd find it hard to fall in love
Then marriage wouldn't flow
I wish I were a Jabberwock
With eyes aflame and such
I'd wish you all a frabjous day
And other double Dutch
If I could find a beaten sword
Then I would be a winner;
A plowshare would be my reward
And I could sow me dinner
I wish I were in marketing
In charge of famous brands
I'd trash their corporate image
With my small, dirty hands!
I wish I were a maestro
A crappy Rover car
Though I might get called a tin can
I wouldn't take you far mercy killing.
I wish my legs were stronger
Than those of Usain Bolt
His speed makes him much wonga
I'm poor - my short legs' fault.
Now, Scottish independence *stands back*
Wis thocht up doon the pub
W'all agreed tha' snooty Dave
Should nae be in oor club.
I wish I spoke Italian
I'd chat up all the birds
I'd be a right rapscallion
'Cos ladies don't like nerds
I wish I spoke Swahili
It sounds so unlike Dutch
Yet Swahili's word for "penguin"
Don't change very much
My shoes are nice and shiny
Just like my nose, alas
My hair sticks up quite spiny Curious that shoe polish shines shoes, but dulls noses.
And the sun shines out my as...
...pidistra in the parlour
Victoriana chic
'Tis worthy of La Scala
I know whereof I speak
Software - I wish I'd been I K Brunel
Beneath my stovepipe hat
'Midst belching chimneys I would dwell
But in a mansion, not a flat.
I wish I were an oak tree
Upon the village green
Bolts of lightning do their worst
To this bucolic scene.
I wish I played the mandolin
Just like Captain Corelli
And kept a tame-ish pangolin
As seen on the telly
The poetry of Robbie Burns
Was newly sprung in June
It shone and stank a bit, in turns
Just like the changing moon.
The plays of William Shakespeare
Go on for far too long
But for luvvies in the green room
More time to play ping-pong!
If I could play the tenor sax
The girls would coo and swoon
But I am just a drummer
And so they boo and moon!
If I were in a pantomime
I'd be a panto horse
The head and front legs would be fine
The rear's more fun, of course.
If I were not upon the stage Was it just our local panto that had a big song and dance about this?
A prompter I would be
But only for a living wage
I'll not shout lines for free!
If I lived in the desert
I'd change my name to 'Sandy'
My visage may seem weathered
But I make the camels randy!
To welcome in the Noo Year
I have not said a word
I've been in here for 5 days now
And nothing has occurred...
If I were just a dicky-bird (Phil) Fie to your orthography, sir!
You wouldn't get a peep
I'd tuck my head beneath my wing
And feign to be asleep
I glide above on silent wings
And spy my prey below
Juicy little worms and things
But I'd prefer merlot
So did you keep the cellar locked?
The Thing's escaped again!
The residents are very shocked
They're all saying you're insane.
My clothes are mostly second-hand
But not my knickers and bra
I crocheted them myself from string
D'you think I've gone too far?
I wish I were a ball-cock
A regulating system
Preventing too much water
Do I have to? I thought I had made it easy. An imperfect rhyme, I know, but close enough...
From gettng in your cistern.
The best thing about choc'late
Apart from everything else
Is that it's made of chocolate
And melts at 40 Cels. Bit of a hard rhyme there. Welsh? Bells? Pulse?
The best that we can hope for
This Thursday afternoon
Is that by Thursday fortnight
We again escape our doom.
I wish I were a referee
To lay down right and wrong
To be abused from every side
But at Wembley get a gong
I wish for springtime sooner
Begone, frigiditee! No,not you, m'dear.
The days are getting longer
There'll be honey soon for tea.
I eat my peas with honey
It makes them taste quite odd
I like it hot and runny
When I spread it on my bod.
I wish I'd bought an iPad
When iPad's were the rage
But now they're quite old-fashioned
And only seem to age!
I wish I'd bought a bullet train
To speed me to and fro
Through the land of rising sun
Express to Tokyo
It is quite grand to contemplate
And think of what might be
Had I'd been born a royal
And used the royal 'we'.
I often use the O.E.D.
To check a definition
But the words I seek are never there
To my consternomition.
The Shorter Oxford Dictionary
Designed for use by dwarves
They play short games of Pictionary
Whilst hiding in their borves
Hidden textThanks for 'dwarves', Software :)
I wish I were a wharfman
For loading in stiletto heels
Clearly off her rocker ... mercy killing - now play nicely please
I've got some nitroglycerine
It makes a loud ka-boom
I keep it in my pantry
And await the Day of Doom
Ensure your cake will always rise
Use lots of baking powder
For taste it may not win the prize
But your farting will be louder Coat!
For best results a pizza stone
Should be heated well
And lightly sprayed with acetone
Before you run like hell
The oven-cleaning fairies
Appear to be on strike
The grease and crud that's there is
Something to dislike
I wish I were an apple core
My pips quite tight within
Growing ripe in Appledore
Before going in the bin
I wish I were a hacker
I'd clear away the wall
And chuck the lot into the skip
Let another take the ball - mercy killing
A mercy killer I would be
So if you're ill, watch out
I'd creep up with my pillow
And cure you of the gout
I wish I were a bookmark
Tucked in a paperback
I'd keep your place like a pro
If memory you lack. Bit awk. Play on chaps.
I wish that it was raining Not, obvs.
There's nowt like getting soaked
But it'll make the grass grow too
And test my mow'r (four-stroked).
It's pen's fault that it's pouring
She did a rain dance in her clogs
But sunshine gets so boring
And she's lovely rainproof togs.
[K, S, me and T] Lovely.
I tweet at lots of TV chefs *I have just had a tweet convo with Valentine Warner. Swoon.*
And they tweet back to me!!!!
They say "At last a gourmet"
let's have a cup of tea
I wish I were a s'lebrity
My face in every rag
Whoring my integrity
It's for money - that's my bag
I wish to see the manager
These shoes are far too tight
He said "Now look 'ere, Bigfoot"
"The cust'mers never right!"
I wish I had my money back
I've been taken for a ride
I've landed up at Fenny Compton
And a part of me just died
I wish I had a picture hook
Upon my picture rail
I'd hang a picture of my mum
... Ah, hell, I'll use a nail
This painted pair of portrait eyes
Watch you around the room
And crinkle up with mirth when you
Go tripping in the gloom Mersea. Next!
I'm glad I'm not a guinea-pig
Testing things bizarre
I don't much want a thingummyjig
Stuck up my chocolate star
Sorry, sorry, sorry!
I'm glad I'm not a plagiarist ...
Of someone else's verses
My own sweat, blood, toil, tears, and grist
Eliminates such curses
I'm glad I'm not a plagiarist ...
My work is all my own
It is not copying, but "homage"
The best stuff but on loan
I wish I were a lady
Then get out those hormone pills
Your new name could be Sadie
And you too could wear frills
I wish I were a gentleman
I'd tip my hat to ladies
I'd wink at all the suffragettes
Who'd curse me back to Hades
I wish I were transgender covering all bases
And could sit down to pee
But that takes balls and mine have gone
Irrevocabably
I've covered all the bases
Potash, lime, ammonia
My scientific nature
Has made my kidneys stonier
It's not the grotty weather
That makes me think of home
For I'm from sunny Timbuktu
And live in a glass dome!
I wish I had a hammer
And nails and four-by-two
A glue-pot, mitre box, and saw
I'd make a box for you
Now get inside this coffin
And I'll nail down the lid
And once you're six feet under
You'll remember what you did!
If I'd been landed gentry
You'd have to bow and scrape
And offer up your daughters
For legally sanctioned and I really don't feel like completing that line.
I deliberately didn't open that door. Moving on...
I've often wondered if it's true
That drinking caustic soda Once a chemist, . . . .
Quite odd consequences has
On one's body odour
I wish I were a postman
Misdirecting all your mail
Bending all your photographs
When letter boxes fail
I wish I were in orbit
Around the planet Saturn
I'd rearrange its many moons
PS Apols for the distasteful "landed gentry" 3rd line on 26/11. I thought someone would come up with a witty dodge of the obvious rhyme, but now it transpires that I can't think of one either!
Into a pleasing pattern. Will that do?
It will indeed, pen, but this new gravity thing everybody's on about will destroy your artwork in an astronomically short time, i.e. less than ten million years.
Hidden textIt is I, Rosie.
I wish I weren't so sleepy
So flatulent, so dull
I think it's down to Brussels sprouts
And long post-Christmas lull
I wish my resolution
Was not so hard to keep
An easier solution
Just give this year a Leap
I'm glad I'm not a dustbin (Chalky) V neat.
Filled with people's trash
The detritus of daily life
Is hard to swop for cash
I'm glad I'm not a hairbrush
Nor, indeed, a comb
'Cos half a ton of dandruff
Calls your head a home eeeuuuuwwww.
Oh take me to the Mardi Gras!
And watch me dance all night
I'll go without my ma and pa
I'd give 'em such a fright.
I used some CSS code
To execute a coup
But my HTMLability
Has put me in the soup
I used to be a sous-chef
That toiled in sweat and steam
Until I poisoned several guests
With scombroid-riddled bream
I wish I were a battery
Imagine all my uses! [Phil] Phwoar, that's a line
Like powering vibrators coat!
That stimulate the juices hat!
So as your paint is drying
You might just make a movie
With music by George Ezra
Appropriately groovy.
I wish I'd been a Beatle
Back in '64
Starring in A Hard Day's Night
As one of the Fab Four
I wish I were a Beetle
With engine at the back
Air cooled engine phut, phut, phut
A hazard on the racetrack.
I wish I were a beetle
A-rolling turds and dung
But rarely are my praises
In church or chapel sung.
I wish I were a pitchfork
With prongs that prod and probe
And perforate and penetrate
Your wellies and your robe I wish I hadn't had to do that
I once slipped on some bladderwrack
While skipping 'cross the rocks
I guess that that will teach me not
To go out crabbing without my socks
I'm glad I'm not a toothypeg
A-lurking in your gob
With a filling having mercury
And a radioactive throb.
I'm pleased I'm not the only one Maybe I am... is anyone else playing?
That roams these ghostly halls
'Cause if I were my lonely song
Would just bounce of the walls.
If I'd been born as Donald Trump
With bucket-loads of cash
I'd get my hair cut properly
So no-one thinks I'm trash
A cuddly little puppy
Is the master of disguise
He first enslaves the populace
With his cute puppy eyes

(to be continued)
His teeny tiny turdies
He drops so dainti-lee
'Till global domination
As he lifts his leg to pee
So - micro pig or microwave?
For sure, the bacon's tiny
But this cuisine's top mystery
Is why the chef's so whiny
I wish I were a spatula
Scraping out your bowl
Trying not to be too flatula
(it's a stretch, sorry)
And Not to be too foul.
I don't want a referendum
'cause I have to make a choice
Should we stay or should we go?
But don't vote for the loudest voice mercy killing
I've mixed up all my tea-bags!
Is this Sencha or Char Sue?
I'll have to take pot luck, it seems hur hur
With my next warming brue
My aerosol is full of foam!
So I took it to a party
I set it off, it was such fun!
Until the host got arsey
The back door to my wardrobe
Leads to somewhere pleasant
But none but me shall know just what
'S my secret way to the Crescent. Was that a hint that the time draws near?
I'm glad I'm not a snooker ball
A-cannon'd 'cross the baize
In a crumbling, shabby snooker hall
Long past the snooker craze.
I'd like to be a simple slug
That lives on lettuce leaves
And not an intellectual one
Cos I'm as thick as thieves
I wish I were an artist
In hip-hop, rap or grime
Like Snoop or Dizzee Rascal
On telly I would mime
I wish I had a stronger voice
Than Andrea Boceli
I wouldn't need a microphone
I'd just give it some welly.
I wish I were a brewer
I'd brew by intuition
And through my kilt - a bonny filter -
Make fuel for self-ignition
I wish I were a poet's muse
To help him from confusion
Inspiring people like Ted Hughes
Who couldn't rhyme for toffee
Mmmm....toffee.....
I wish that I'd known Sylvia Plath
And what it was that depressed her
So lead her down my primrose path
So maybe she would have felt much better
I wish I was a messenger
Telegram in hand
To warn of your investiture
As fairest in the land. [pen] Well rhymed.
I wish I were a lightning bolt [Raak] Ta. I had to 'do research'.
That lights the thunderhead
I'd strike you where it hurts the most
When in your marriage-bed!
One really should be careful
When taunting grizzly bears
Not to mention woodland
Where it leaves its wares
I'm glad I'm not a toothpick
A-poking tushypegs
Getting chewed and rather slimy
A-poking round for dregs That'll do.
I wish I were a lumberjack Shut up at the back.
That leapt from tree to tree
I'd hold my chopper in my hand Steady on ...
And wield it lustily
A lumberjack, or lumberjill
Which would I rather be?
I'm lucky to have got the choice
Fluid gender - that is me
I'm going on my holiday
I'd better tell my boss
The whole team's coming with me
'Cos they don't give a toss
I wish I were in Switzerland
Where I've stashed my loot
Instead I'm stuck in Lichtenstein
A tax haven too to boot
I'm just a gnome in Zurich
Amassing piles of gold
Hiding it most secretly
Until this rhyme gets old More than a week without a last line, folks. Time for it to go.
It'll all be held in secret
Grey suits in smoke-filled rooms
The guns are on the table
While they're eating magic 'shrooms Mercy killing, innit.
I wish I were an actor
A star of the West End
I'd call myself 'Evadne'
Who's paid for 'Let's pretend'.
What is it about recent third lines that caused a promising start to peter out?
My recipe for Christmas cake
Is mostly stout and gin
The Christmas pudding that I'll make
'll have none of the above in. hic!
Some doggerel for Friday
Is what we chiefly need
To help forget the current mess
Let good times be decreed! .
A frog is in my pocket
And out it wants to leap
I'm tempted just to lock it
Up tightly in The Keep
Neat
What I really want for Christmas
Would tell you quite a lot
About the piss-poor State of Things
That pertain in Camelot!
I wish I'd reached enlightenment
Before I bought that drink
Such clarity of thought has gone
That Nirvana's on the blink.
I wish I'd bought some fishing line
Because now I cannot cast
To catch these drones that spy on me
(I wish I hadn't asked.)
If I'd been born a reindeer
I'd fear all polar bears and covalent ones
But since I am a penguin
I know them bears ain't there
Dawn came up like thunder
Noon brought raging sun
The sky was rent asunder
By an angry Kim Jong Un.
I wish that I liked Christmas
But I'm a grouchy sod
Who waits til it's all over
Proclaiming "Oh, thank God"
I wish than I liked whisky *hypothetically obvs*
'Cos I've got twenty litres
I'm told it makes one frisky
But I like margaritas
I have no favourite cocktail
I'll drink just anything
Pass the paraffin, say I
To me it tastes like gin
Now Hogmanay is ending
The Haggis will get stale
So Burns' Night was invented
To use up cakes and ale
I wish I were a porcupine
Tho' I'd still be just as spiky
Cos unable to recline supine
Would lose you sleep, by crikey! You do it next time then!
The boy stood on the burning deck time for an old traditional
There was panic all around
The hairs were signed around his neck this one might run for a few verses
But still he stood his ground.
He shouted to the Captain,
My smartphone's up the spout
But the Captain didn't give a toss
He'd already gotten out.
I don't need much for dinner
A loaf of bread will do
And just a little caviar
You know, that fishy goo.
I wish I'd been a buccaneer
Sacking galleons and cities
An enterprising privateer
Saying "Ha-harrr" and whistling ditties.
The Budget sets our spending
Unless we're rolling in it innit?
It is sure to increase lending
By 14p a minute.
If I were riding on a train
That called at Clapham Junction
Onto the tracks below I'd drain
My bowels, without compunction. pretty much oblig.
[Knobbly] I suspect that you, me and Rosie were probably ad idem on that one. Not sure about pen.
I let out such a holler
That it woke th'Antipodes
I'd lost my final dollar
To arbitration fees
I wish I had a hobby horse
That I could ride around on;
One I had purchased second-hand
But it was bro-kon<
Hidden textYes, I know, a ridiculous stretch there
The Ancient Mariner went by
Waitrose on his way
To pick up twenty artichokes
And twenty bales of hay.
My ancient Marina still goes
Like an elephant in its last throes
If those aren't the first two lines of a limerick I'm a baobab tree
Oops.
Which is what happened and where it happened way back in 1973.
Rosie, you don't half set some tricky scansion.
(Bismarck) Well, it's clerihew, isn't it?
I wish I were a mariner
So I could stop a wedding guest
Hidden textIf that last one was simultaneously a limerick, a clerihew and a bad quatrain, we have reached unforeseen heights. Or depths.
From smashing up the porringer
And spilling gravy down his chest
I wish I were a gavy boat
*gravy
And not a gravy train
Then scruffy kids would sniff me
And not use me for gain.
I think I see the reason
Why I'm such a slob
Cos whate'er be the season
I never get a job
I'd love to be a Vandal
Smashing things for fun
Hidden text(Raak) Did you mean "I'd love to have been a Vandal"?
Hidden text[Rosie] Good Scansion gives +1 to Poetic License.
But I was born Attila
Just the day job for a Hun.
The movies that I have not seen
I also have not heard
And subtitles have never been
The last and final word
V. nice...!
I wish I were a photon
Going at the speed of light
My local time would never change
But relatives' just might
This rhyming lark is really great!
It's better than a parrot
Which is dead in any case
From overdose of claret Thanks for the parrot rhyme challenge, Simons, I was determined not to carrot it.
O for the wings of a dove!
To escape the malevolent hawk
So somebody give me a shove
And look away while I squawk.
pen, I can think of ferret, garret, and merit right off . . .
I should have picked the mynah bird :-)
But watch out for that beak!
Its repertoire is quite absurd [KS] I'll give you ferret/merit and parrot/garret (almost) but there are no other relations by rhymeration at all in that bundle o' words.
That's why it is not cheep!
Yes, "beak" and "cheep" are perfect rhymes. In a sense. Which I have just made up.
(pen, penult) I know you don't live in a garrett but have you driven any of these monsters?
My boyfriend drives a Monster Truck
A redneck through and through Perhaps generalising unfairly, but this is poetry, not real-life
He votes for Trump and says "Yee-haw!" ditto
And is fluent in Urdu.
A Monday morning task for me
Is started in the afternoon;
This may seem paradoxical
But Mondays come around too soon. Mercy
I think somebody's pulling the wool
Now then, Mr Software, how many feet does a glow-worm have? de-Dum de-Dum de-Dum Dum, remember? I wish I were a glow worm. So...

I think somebody's pulling

The wool over our eyes
'Cos we know what they're up to
Despite the lizards' lies.
(UN-altered REPRODUCTION and DISSEMINATION of this IMPORTANT Information is ENCOURAGED, ESPECIALLY to COMPUTER BULLETIN BOARDS.)
Un-altered reproduction
No mutations, please
Hidden textEven in Welsh
Important information
Online, not on trees.
I wish I were a bouncer
Like my friend Zebedee
I'd round them up for bedtime
"Brush teeth and have a pee!"
In Glasgow there was a cow
Ee-aye-ee-aye-oh
Sadly, it isn't there now
so I just won't go
I wish I could do scansion
Just like a real poet
But do you know what?
I tend to write whatever rhymes and just add a line below it.
I wish I were a lemur
With a stripy, fluffy tail
I'd hang around the jungle
And drink a pint of ale.
I've never been to Glasgow
Nor said "Och aye the noo"
Because I live in Edinburgh
And have a broader view.
I wish I were a Scotsman
I'd eat haggis every day
And many a deoch an doruis
Would send me on my way.
I wish I were a Geordie
Just like Ant or Dec
I'd pretend to be all cheery
While miserable as feck. soz
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