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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
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And so it begins....
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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
Like George Formby falling t'' ground. 'Owja do glo''al stops?
While cleaning windows what did I see?
A gentleman who looked like George Formby!
He was missing his uke,
And he gave me a look That's considerably less revolting than my first idea for the line
And a rather refined cup of tea
Whenever I hear Van the Man
Or I see the Pres with the "tan"
My hackles are raised
And I go off half-crazed
When Her Majesty does the can-can
You know, I miss Morecambe and Wise
As I guzzle a dozen mince pies
Abbott and Costello
And some other fellow
All gone to that Club in the skies
Pine needles all over the floor
A dried-up, dead wreath on the door
The cold light of day dawns
Christmas over, so yawns
Next year we'll be back for some more
Zut alors, wat is 'appening 'ere?
Someone 'as put cheese in my beer
And made it go flat
I shall keel 'eem, zis rat
With my pistole-couteau I 'ave 'ere.
Mein Herr - du hast eaten my pie!
Undt now, English pigdog, you die!
Mein Eisbein ist heilig!
Tough luck - time ist veilig
Even executions go awry
Ahoy! Me hearties! Avast!
Virus protection at last!
Just roll up your sleeve
One jab, and then we've
Hidden textSoftware - nice
Begun sending this plague to the past.
When counting in French, one can say
Un, deux, trois - m'ouveré
Alternatively
Count in Swahili
Hidden textSomeone has to give this a go
Or simply use English/anglais
One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight - splendid idea Dujon!
I count t'let my anger abate
While I'll count in German
Which won't be a sermon
And Europeans I'll try to placate Another Brexshit bonus
So now it's the War of Vaccine
With skirmishes covert and mean
But wait! Who is wrong?
The few or the throng?
The death toll remains to be seen. mercy killing - see what I did there?
Well, I'm free of the COVID is seems
When I finish applying these creams
In covert ceremonies
I'll plaster my knees
In ointment, to cover my screams
In order to seem more appealing
I serve only the finest Darjeeling
In the very best bone china
Made by someone named Dinah
It gives everyone such a nice feeling
[C,R,R,KS,S] Couldn't be more English

In lockdown, I've done some repairs
But it's still rather dodgy upstairs
For instance, the ceiling
Is still only a feeling
And the walls and the floor are "not theres".
While strolling through Lincoln's Inn Fields
I spotted a skip full of shields
That the barristers dump
At the acquittal of Trump oblig.
It's a sign of the power that he wields Moving swiftly on...
We don't have to fear Joseph Biden
Any more than Franz Joseph Haydn
He's as good as his word
When he gives Trump the bird
As into the sunset he's ridin'.
Seems Richard did not have a hump
Nor Jasmine an extra chest bump
You just can’t believe
Each bodily heave
And each clown is in private a glump.
Hidden textWho is this Jasmine the formerly triple-breasted?
While waiting for my second jab
I chanced upon Dominic Raab
I said, "What ho, Dom!"
with my usual aplomb
And asked him to hail me a cab.
Hidden text[Raak], If I RECALL correctly, the name is actually Mary. Seriously, does she have three boobs? (Extra credit if you can tell me the source of my caption) Did my link not work? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EiylTqSAiaM
(KagShu) A 50% excess is unusual but not unique. Here's Monty Python from about 1969.
The chances of being immune
Are as slim as a snowflake in June
So before you get tested
Don't get arrested
Hidden text[Rosie: fun, but "Seriously, doe sshe have three boobs?" is from Legally Blo>nde: The Musical
That could ruin your whole afternoon
There's no sense in holding it back
Even though you may get the sack
Let them know what you think
That their policies stink Almost oblig.
And they should all be put on the rack. at a stretch
When working a day of CS
Hidden textThat's cee ess, or customer service.
Be sure to use words that impress
Don't snarl "Oh get stuffed!"
When your help is rebuffed
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