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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
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And so it begins....
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This dire cyclonicity
And damp synchronicity
Confuses my poor little hound.
If you want to bamboozle a dog
Just dress him like Jacob Rees Mogg
In top had and tails
With manicured nails
And not keep going to the bog.
When Corona was just a drink
And the world was not yet on the brink
We thought it a lark
To have fun in the dark
Social distance at zero (*wink wink*)
In a cupboard, while playing "Sardines"
I wished I'd not eaten baked beans Nice pay-off, CdM
My flatulence there
Was too much to bear
And I melted a hole in my jeans
There's a trick to op'ning canned beer
For one thing, wear the right gear
Take dagger and cloak
Give it a good poke
And watch it spray far and near
In these times of foreboding and gloom
I'm simply not leaving my room
So if you want to cheer me
Without standing near me
Facetime me so I can zoom
I've just heard that Boris is sick
I hope his recovery's quick
To founder and fail
But keep out of jail
Is a very Pfeffelian trick
Once was, that all roads led to Rome
But now, we must all stay at home
And not wipe our arses
Through government farces
So please don't be tempted to roam
The peak of infection is past
And though working from home is a blast
Does nobody know
Just where I might go
Sorry, those days are past.
It's got to be time for a brew
But please don't let it stew
When infusing the leaves
I'll tell you what peeves
Not knowing where each of them grew
Hidden textSocial Distancing provides opportunity for such ponderings
Home alone. I've searched - there's no other
Those bed socks belong to my mother
And the knocks in the walls
And the plaster that falls
On me is such a bother
Relaxing the rules just a little
A lot wouldn't do, but a bit'll
Think it's all over
And visit their lover Shakespearian Rules declared
What'll then hit the fan? Oh, the shit'll.
Thanks for the excellent development of an admittedly difficult start!
Outside there's a godawful smell
In my own personal circle of Hell
I've searched high and low
I reck'n it's the po
But my nose is so clogged I can't tell
I've gathering the wood and the wool
Sounds like a load of old bull
In fact, a young cow
In the here'n'now
Says I'm too high to be cool.
Do nothing, until there's a Plan
Don't plan, until there's a Man
No Man? Get a monkey
Then all will be hunky-
Dory, like Dominic Cummings's scam
I'm really fed right up to here
I'll do something reckless, I fear
I'll put on my socks! [Daring enough for ya, ya pussies? I'm so hardcore I may even put them on the wrong feet.]
Cue-up "Cleveland Rocks!"     The Ian Hunter original
Fu*k it, I'll just have a beer
My socks are marked left and right
This is so I can find them at night
The marks are in Braille
They pong, so exhale
But this cannot be mine - far too tight
I'm back from a very long trip
To Woking's municipal tip
Where I hunted in vain
For Boris's brain
In the vain hope he might get a grip
I feel like an animal theme for a bit. Can we have some animals?

There is much to be said of the Moth

But I'd much rather speak of the Sloth     
Hidden textHi, Jack!
Or a simple wombat
Or a Sumatran Rat
Or the Wampa ice creature from Hoth
I can't see the point of a bunny
They're 'hoppy' and I prefer 'runny'
But hoppy beer's great
So here's Bunny's fate
Stewed in Guinness, with onions, and honey.
The purpose of hedgehogs is clear [Simons] We can have a catalogue of limericks justifying British fauna if you want
They have excellent taste in good beer
They just lap it up
From a saucer or cup
Curl up and just disappear
The haggis, a curious beast
Turns dinner into a feast
with offal and bran
Yourrr auld Scottish gran
Will make it all rise with some yeast
You can see by the cut of his jib
That he clearly will not ad lib
Those "Fnarrs"! and those "Errrs"
"In the script!" he avers
"To say otherwise is a fib"
You can tell by the look in her eye
That the lady is ever so shy
She's sweet and demure
But her mind is manure the light linen duster coat, ta
You would think she was born in a sty.
You could say she was destined to fly
(Even though, manifestly, you lie)
She seems to have wings
And other nice things
But too great a liking for pie (Sigh) It's like the sad tale of Mavis the Fairy all over again.
(Only with pie rather than cake.)
If cake is your bag, just look here
It is gluten-free, have no fear
And there's zero lactose
Sugar free, I 'spose Tricky rhyme, there
And a glass of no-alcohol beer.
My hair grows ever longer
Surely a glow worm?
My hair grows ever longer
But falls out just as fast
I'll beat upon the conga
Until I breathe my last.
(Superman) 'Kinell. It is, isn't it.
My hair seems to grow ever longer
But my body just doesn't get stronger
So, Sampson I'm not
And Delilah is rot
Can it get any wronger?
I like to eat spinach with jam  
Hidden textNot really
Far better than Marmite with spam
Hidden textUrk!
But jellied eel mousse
Hidden textGetting grosser here . . . )
Just makes the bowel loose
Hidden textSo they say
I'm a slave to my guts, that I am.
But I love strawberry jam with my cheese
'Tis a consumation sure to please
But not ev'rybody
is Passamaquoddy
Who eat it while shooting the breeze.
I shot at the breeze and I missed
And the breeze is now royally pissed
"I'll blow your house down"
It said, with a frown
Til I asked it to kindly desist
My arrow is caught in a tree
And my grapeshot has not made it free
My petard is hoist
My powder is moist
And my peashooter - it lacks a pea.
*applause*
That should be exhibited immediately in the showcase game.
The thunder is getting quite near
I'd better finish off my beer
For this heat and this weather
Ruffle many a feather
With a large bolt of lightning, I fear
Hat off. Another winner
Ye Gods! What a bang! That was close!
It made me yell, "Great Caesar's Ghost!"
But try not to fret
It's not over yet
You've still got to butter the toast
The smell of hot crumpet with butter
Will cause a curmudgeon to mutter
"How gruntled I feel!" Resisting the temptation to put "gruntled" at the end of the line.
"This is not quite a meal"
But the prospect still makes my heart flutter
Cream cheese on a bagel is better
Though I much prefer to use feta
While some like ricotta
I think that you oughta
Feed that lot to the nearest red setter (The weirdest dog breed I've ever come across.)
A strange dog, you see, is the Puli
Think Dougal (though not so unruly)
And the magical thing
Is one gets them to sing
By kicking them in the left goolie.
Demonstration event at Crufts
A sudden change in the weather
Can motivate me to wear leather True
Then, astride my Hog
I ride into the fog
Adorned with a large ostrich feather
When it rains down bricks and mortar
There's one thing that you oughta
Never ever do (KagShu) Earthquake, tornado?
Lock yourself in the loo Let's get this moving.
And pointlessly call for a porter
Immunity, so I have heard,
Is a highly politicised word
Especially for Trump
An idiot chump (Rosie) Probably tornadoes in Hurricane Laura
Whose IQ was somehow deferred
If your trombone is blocked up with crud (KagShu) Mmm, nasty. Hope the bits missed you.
The best thing is to fill it with mud
Apply moderate heat
Till the tone becomes sweet
Then clear it all out with a thud
If you like reading adventure novels
Or Dickensian books set in hovels
Then I've got just the thing:
(It's written by Sting)
As for his fans he grovels
Hey! Here's some terrific advice
If your clock is infested with mice
Wait until it strikes one
They'll have no more fun
The tone, their brains will splice
Hidden textH/T Pinky and the Brain
Rosie - was already evacuated for Laura and saw my city basically damaged by it when I first wrote that and n ow Delta has hit my city, too. I was still evacuated, so I'm safe
I've heard there's a brand new vaccine
To protect us from Covid-19 I wish
But there is a small catch
You'll lose all your thatch
And your privates will glow lurid green. oblig.
Eating chicken soup as a cure
Is common in Jewish culture
But the Catholics swear
By the head of a bear
And its testicles just to be sure
I'm determined to start a fresh rhyme
Though a challenging task for a mime
He can't say a thing
Though his limbs he may swing
For to learn ASL takes some time.
As he ran like the wind to the border  
Hidden textNo idea what this is about.
Before Brexit to place his last order
He wished that he had
Stayed in Ahmedabad
With his wife, (where he couldn't afford 'er)
As I sailed in my boat on the briny
My toddlers got seasick and whiny
So I sent them aloft
To work on a croft
They didn't do much; they're too tiny
Do you really think it is OK  
Hidden textAs for the penultimate one, I _still_ don't know what it was about.
To start a new lim'rick this way?
Choose one: YES or NO
And don't vacillate so
For this, dear friends, is the way.
On this day, of all days, it is clear
That your vest is still showing, my dear
I did say “Don’t inflate it!”
But anticipated
Obedience - now should I try fear?
In a dinghy I rowed out one day
To the mouth of the silvery Tay
Then I fell overboard
And cried: "Save me, Lord"
Though he never responds when I pray
YMMV
I'm offering up this kind thought-
If you do what you know that you ought
Then if someone sees
You stuffing golf tees Unfinished thought alert
Surely, you will be caught.
I'd like to say 'well done' to Pfizer Nothing if not topical
If it's true let's all have a spritzer
At -80 degrees Cee      
Hidden texter ... the name is pronounced Pf-EYE-zer, innit?
It's obvious to me
It will be applied by Thagomizer
Mercy killing
A vaccine? Oh my! Is it true?
Should we cheer? Shout Hurrah and Woohoo?
But suppose it's a dud?
And does us no gud invoking poetic licence
There'll be quite a hullabaloo.
Keep that needle away from my arm!
In my bum, though, it works like a charm
I've been waiting for weeks
To whip off me breeks
Though it causes the wife some alarm
Beware - do not try this at home
Especially not on your own
Suppose it explodes
And fuses your nodes Shades of Rambling Syd Rumpo there.
You'll be blown from here half way to Nome.
Nome, and its green green green grass
Is built on cooled volcanic glass
They say that at night
Its emerald light
Looks like oxidized brass
Ring the bells! Sound a gong! Hoist the flag!
Says the front page of my Sunday rag
Well, get The Observer
Which proclaims with great fervor
"How to split up from your lifetime bag."
While shepherds were watching their flocks
Of chickens and geese and some cocks
They whiled away the time
By eating a lime
And chasing off all chicken hawks.
Me ‘n my mates, we’re all kings from back east
We're the Basildon Bad Boys, now mainly deceased
From beyond the grave
We'll still have a rave
with 'Unleashed From The East' - Judas Priest
(real album - honest guv')
While slamming tequila on ice
I blacked out at least once or twice
Hit me 'ead on the floor
Lost a fight with a door
And got dragged off to jail by the Vice.
In praise of the old Pearly Queen
I painted my private parts green
The public bits red
Then I shaved my head
And stripped off so to be seen
I went out with a real little raver
Who moonlighted, days, as a paver
His favourite dance
Had a one in four chance
Of not making him one to savour
The chord that was lost has been found
And has a most beautiful sound
It's a mixture of twang,
And blip-bloop and ktang
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