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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
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And so it begins....
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This gender reveal
Became quite a big deal
As I clocked his proverbial [noun]
I awake and the clock strikes thirteen.
So it's time for my swig of poteen
Och aye, and begorrah!
It's already tomorrow?
And yesterday's gone, come and been
I encountered a horse and his boy
As they fled from enslavement in Troy
Hidden textActually Calormen, but as we know from Hercules and Xena, all the old stories happened next door to each other, when there were hardly any miles in the world.
The horse said, "Oh man,"
"We fled from Tashbaan!"
"And now I'm jumping with joy!"
Achilles, it’s said, was a heel
And lacked charismatic appeal
Plus, he had a glass jaw
Which reflected the floor
And made his chin look quite teal.
A day spent in bed? That's a mood.
Of which there can come nothing good.
But a valid invalid
With visage quite pallid
Could do with a little food pronounce it as you will
The heart wants what hearts tend to want.
Like spooning with Norman Lamont
An unusual wish
But he's more of a dish
When served in a greek restaurant
I like me a nice cup of tea
Or some beer, if I get it for free
I don't like hard liquor
It makes me sicker quicker
Than chicory flavour coffee
I'm told that I need to act dumb
So I go around sucking my thumb
When approached and addressed
I whip out my left breast
And offer a swig of black rum.
Congrats all - that made me laugh out loud
Congrats, all, that caused me to lol.
I confirmed with a quick Twitter Poll
But my backside's attached
Though the cheeks are mismatched
ROTFL was the goal.
CLAPCLAPCLAP! Cheese'n'onon all round!
I posted a message on X
Then got banned for a reference to sex
But when I asked Y
E M Z "O my"
"U caused my man muscle to flex"
If we all post on Threads this fine day
We might stop its rapid decay
So leave it to rot
As if you forgot
and you quite lost your thread... to... um...


Hey,...


I once drew an interesting graph
With x showing time, and y, staff
The results were quite silly
And my friends were quite chilly
- I'm the largest employer in Llandaff.
Here's a thing, up with which I won't put:
The use of the phrase "to step foot". true story
And yet, "give a hand"
Is still in demand
When ones face is covered in soot
After boarding a plane to Mumbai
We went up alarmingly high
As the Earth fell away
I was tempted to say
"I'm a Bollywood star in the sky!"

(Just call me Apo-ji)
It's an Indian Summer we've got
We know, 'cos it's bloody hot!
This unseasonal spike It's only just autumn; I think calling it an Indian summer this soon is pushing it a smidge
A gross thermal hike
Hidden text(SM) You are more correct than you realise. Calculations based on the 40-year record at Plas Huws show that the warmest 3 months of the year end on average on 8 September, i.e. tomorrow, which will be another sweatfest.
Causing boils, heat prostration and  CENSORED  rot.
There's a widespread opinion that Sid
Was more vicious than Billy the Kid
But Celsa and Nancy
(Girls that I fancy)
Were dreadful, and landed in Knidd. I think that's how you spell it.
Yr Wyddfa? I've walked to the summit!
The train is so cheap you could bum it (Pj) Yr wyddfa means "the tomb"
I admit that the height
Leaves my head feeling light
And I fear I won't walk down, but plummet.
Chipping Sodb'ry's the place (Raak) Neat
If you want to get punched in the face.
Maybe that needs a scansion tweak:
Chipping Sodbury isn't the place
(If you value the shape of your face)
I'm told it's not pretty (Proj) OK - not not of my better ones.
Despite a committee
For balance of gender and race.
There's six of 'em up in my attic!
They're giving my radio static
They're hooked up to 5G
At the back of each knee
They've always been pretty erratic
My grandfather's contrabassoon
Can be heard, so they say, on the moon
Its mellifluous tones
Rattle teeth, shatter bones
But it can make an elephant swoon
My cat's clarinet, au contraire,
Is irreparably plugged up with hair
And that's a Good Thing
'Cos 'e can't make it sing
(But alas, he had ordered a pair.)
The Wolf in the woods had the horn
And practiced each Sunday at dawn [keeping it musical]
The slumbering sheep (SM) spoilsport
Woke at the first peep
And bleated at him with some scorn.
A hamster seen playing the flute
Would be a bit of a hoot
Would be more than a bit of a hoot, I'd suggest.
An owl on the cello
Plays something more mellow
To back the sweet song of the newt.
A timpani-playing amoeba
And a Yankee saxophonist zebra
Met up with a lynx
In front of the Sphinx
But that's gotta be better than Bieber I feel quite forced
The old folk of Chalfont St Peter
Feel that HS2 would have been neater
Had the track been aligned
Oh no. Refresh page double post. Apologies.

• Chalky - The old folk of Chalfont St Peter
• Projoy - Feel that HS2 would have been neater
• goldfinch - Had the track been aligned
Per the plan that was signed (two days is long enough to wait)
As OK for just a two-seater.
When walking the Appian Way
(Appi was drunk, by the way)
With Grumppi and Sneezi
Both feeling quite queasi
We still made Brindisi by day
The mushroom on which I was seated
Soon began to feel centrally heated
It then spoke to me
Hallucinogenicly
(I suspect that my brain had been pleated).
This warm portobello recliner
Is a mushroom that couldn't be finer
Tilts any direction
With supine perfection
And manufactured in China.
This felt is quite fuzzy to touch
(Though I'm worried it isn't quite "butch")
And what's more it itches
(Are those ticks in the stitches?)
(Or weevils, or some other such?)
Comes the night, comes a change, comes a fear
Comes a need for a good pint of beer
And goes by the wayside
Let's cross to the dayside
Do the clocks get put back around here?
For the last time, the clocks have gone back
Away with this autumnal slack!
But the clock on my cooker
Looks crook, getting crooker
I'll just have to hit it - thwack!
Oh, the fear of an empty white page
The start's the most difficult stage
I'll begin in a bit
Oh, it’s hard, isn’t it?
Damn this Infinite Monkey Cage
The Tuesdayish feelings I have
As I sit here and strain on the lav
Regretting that curry
And the seventh McFlurry
And that third slice of passionfruit pav.
My gastrointestinal woes
Have not yet affected my nose
At my doctor’s suggestion
I've hastened digestion
In it comes, through it goes - "There she blows!"
In the forest, the forest, the dark
Where nothing stirs. But hark!
The Jabberwock waiting
In hope of a mating
Then the forest, the forest, the dark.
It is often the case that my aunt
Will pause to insist that I can't
—
I interrupt: "Can!"
And bring in my gran
“—no, you can’t play with Gran’s ear implant.”
It is often the case that my dad
Pours scorn on the latest "yoof" fad
But I found his Zoot Suit
And stale cheroot loot
He claims they'll be "back" in a tad.
Seems Dad was a "Ted" in his day
Pints of Brylcreem to make his hair stay
And those winkle-pickers
elicit some snickers
But the drainpipes blew all away
It is often the case that my Mum
Took umbrage when I sucked my thumb
Poor Umbridge, nice place
(but thumb stayed in face)
But my dad didn’t mind, not a crumb.
It is often the case that my Dad
Talks of lives he might somehow have had
Had he taken the chance
And moved over to France
He would have been labelled a cad.
It is never the case that my son
Stops his laces from coming undone
Despite double bow
And a lot of velcro.
He always trips up on a run.
It is sometimes the case that my daughter
Does not always do what she oughta
She stays out at night
And she looks such a sight
But satisfies the riff-raff who court her.
Line up on this board by the pool
In height order, you know the rule
On my count of three
All bend at the knee
And shed a world-ranking stool
When at the North Pole you'll see
Santa Claus on an Amazon spree
With one-click aplomb
You can send him a bomb
Which he'll give to kids who are naughty.
In April I open my bill
In the hope of a gobful of krill
Instead, there was sewage
And what's more (the worst bit)
It's making me feel rather ill
As we come to the end of the year
Let's let fly with this impotent jeer:
I'll cut off your balls
Which I'll nail to the walls
Instead of holly and ivy, you hear?
Such seasonal violence aside
Let peace rule on this Christmastide
Let's all just chill out
You'd better not shout.
Pull a cracker – BANG – oops, the peace died.
Cold turkey is no kind of fun
And a sign that the roast's underdone
Fruitcake's no good
So gimme Christmas Pud
While I wait for the year's course to run
The secret for succulent meat
Lies down at the end of our street
Those burgers are yummy
For they're flame-grilled with honey
So no need to go on to sweet
My cat had a wonderful Yule
E'en though he behaved like a tool
He chainsawed the tree
And ate the budgie
So I’m rehoming him in Kabul
It will now take some weeks for my belly
To shift from in front of the telly
My brain, too, is f****d rhyme it as you wish
But there's two Roses left!
Shall I have 'em? Why, yes! On your nelly!
It is grim and I want for some sun
But the rain and the fog aren't quite done
And tonight, snow and ice
Will be playing at dice
With hailstones (for even more fun!)
This was fun, but I have to be going
Next morning for Cambridge I’m rowing
The cox says my stroke
Needs that much more poke
And I must ditch the hamper I'm towing
The whales off of east New South Wales
Are relaxed about storms, floods and gales
Well, some like it rough
(Orcas surf in the buff)
But enough off-the-cuff whale details.
Have you recently fallen in love?
I wouldn't quite call it that, bruv
Then have you been dating?
I'm equivocating
Such pedestrian stuff, I'm above
As the weather grows colder and colder
The White Walkers roam south ever bolder
No wall is too high
The zombies draw nigh!
Someone stop them! We need a door-holder!
Here's the carrot and there is the stick
So which are you going to pick?
The choice is so hard
Like picking a card
Incentives should best do the trick.
The cave where the blue monkeys dwell
Has a very particular smell
Of typewriter ribbon
And erudite gibbon
So pongy, and funky as well.
O, to follow a winding canal
To somewhere more calm (not banal) Margo Leadbetter vowels invoked
With Prunella Scales
Whom Basil fails
With fawlty unsafe rationale
Sail a boat, bonny girl; be at peace.
You'll find all your problems will cease (Chalky) Classy, that
Your peace is assured (Rosie) too kind, dear chap
For the time you’re unmoored
If you keep all your rollocks well-greased.
When one tunes in to Radio 1
One will wish that one hadn't've done.
For it's radio crap
(moans the grumpy old chap)
It's like tuning in to The Sun Would rather not have used 'tune in' again but couldn't think of anything else that scanned.
While listening to Radio Two
- Which is what one would rather not do -
I was bored out my mind
Then thought "search and you'll find"
'I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue'
Go to bed in a bitter bad mood
And then breakfast on mountains of food
Then maybe you'll find
Your bogrolls unwind
To keep pace with the quantities pooed
The rate of inflation's insane
By the time I wrote this line, the gain
Is forty percent
So I live in a tent
As for cash, I have naught but disdain.
When one listens to Radio Three
(Which is not at all smug or snobby)
One's erudite taste
Does not go to waste
With Darjeeling as one's choice of tea
Now Radio Four's for the few
Such as those who Haven't A Clew
And those who like Ambridge
Or speak the welsh language
Tuned in from Lundy in a canoe.
(Chalky) Ofnadwy! Ti'n medddw neu rhywbeth?
Radio Caroline for me is the best
For those who are pop tune obsessed
But if you like jazz
Scuttle Radio Caz
And give Tony Blackburn a rest.
There's four thousand holes in the hall
Through which the kobolds will crawl
Even Superman quails
His power fails
So holes blocked, therefore, sod all.
There’s nine million bikes in Beijing
Each with a bell that goes ping
They fly through the dawn
And park on the lawn
Against the law of Comrade Xi Jiping
When the clock strikes out four steady chimes
It's the signal to set loose the mimes
Whose blitheness of spirit
Is of great mirit NZ pronunciation invoked
And moves along with the times
There isn't a reason I know
Why the cat should be starting to glow
Perhaps it's on heat
And hoping to meet
A cool cat to lay on a show.
I'm feeling some strange feelings, man
And I’m not sure it’s part of the plan
I seem to be joined
(While my reason’s purloined)
By James Bond in a VW van.
I've just taken leave of my senses
And I've start to relinquish my tenses
My ego is stilled
Libido killed
Ennui's destroyed my mental fences.
A spell at the track, watching dogs
In pursuit of fake hare each dog jogs
But a jog supersonic
(and that's NOT a mneumonic!)
Cannot be achieved wearing clogs.
It grows in each corner, like mould
When the air becomes stale, damp and cold
But if rats intervene
Just apply margarine
A rodenticide, so I am told.
If it's butter you seemingly lack,
Then make use of this genius hack:
Find a dandelion field
And ‘neath your chin wield
A small knob of Danish Lurpak
All the poems that ever were written
Can't compare to the new of a kitten
*mew
BIFURCATION!

But "new what?" you may ask | That soprano cry
Well! Let onlookers bask | Could bring tears to the eye
And they'll note that I've just been bitten/And a language that's yet to be written
Hmmm... Let's see if this one goes any better. :)

The most desperate words ever spoken
I exclaimed as I woke in Hoboken:
"Send Marmite! And cheese!"
"And some toasted bread, please"
And a 50p gas meter token!
[CdM] Another flub. 50P? In Hoboken? Woe, lackaday etc 8o)
All the dreams of my youth are long faded
All my sensuous tastes are long jaded
I shall lie in my bed
And watch TV instead
Then wink out, just the way the display did
Now the arc of my plan's more a spike
What's that? Speak into the mike
A bang then a whimper
A fart and a simper
(And the heckler can get on his bike)
[R,R,C,P] Now that was a limerick!
(CdM) Agreed. Top-drawer.
Can the real Mister Shady stand up?
So that we can present the cup
And a small piece of paper
Freshly dropped by a vaper
Which proves his real name is Miles Jupp
I am a Morniverser
May I revise as I think you put a glow worm in the limericks (and vice versa)
I play in the Morniverse games
Wearing gold-plated spectacle frames
But have noticed of late
That they're losing their plate
So I guess it's time for new frames.
Be young and be foolish, he said.
So do it now, before you are dead (Pj) Yeah, funny stuff, alcohol. A small molecule that goes round the brain pulling out a few plugs.
Because once you're deceased
Turns out everything's leased
Sink your gold in a cask lined with lead.
O! Were it not for my vanity
I'd eschew this vexatious insanity
I’d cast off my qualms
Call out saws; sing out psalms
I'd live in total inanity
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me teeth[1]
'cos for now they just need a wreath
All the toffees I chewed
And the plaque I accrued
Means they're not even fit to bequeath To some lucky relative, obvs. :-)
On the day that the music ceased living
I remember that I was then giving
Out newspapers, news
Of the dry levee blues
And such heartbreak went deep like a shivving
While rooting around in my shed
Up with which I soon got fed
Then off with which pissed
Hidden text [RtG, P, g, C] Beautiful— particularly the lovely and unexpected closing line. I am not sure if the echo of “shiver” from the opening verse of AP was deliberate (though, knowing Chalky, probably yes), but whether intentional or serendipitous, it was icing on the cake.
I was - you - grabbed my wrist (pass the parse-l)
Which down balloon went like a lead
The legs that I grow in my garden
Need concrete and sun for to harden
And when they are done
With concrete and sun
I'll be stuck; can't move; beg pardon.
I'm refined: I drink sherry and port.
A mixture my grandmother taught
Though she'd also opine
That strawberry wine
Was poison, and lands you in court.
Be awatch, for the tigers may come
Sneak up and bite on your bum
If they come from the side
You’ll be swiftly de-thighed
Leaving one buttock startlingly numb
The most perfect example of karma
Occurs if one unmasks a llama
When their cover is blown
They despairingly moan
They love to make it a drama
Alpacas are much more relaxed
E'en when their patience is taxed
Can I suggest a tweak?:
Though their patience must sorely be taxed
By the wool in their eyes
And so it's no surprise
That they're calmest when recently waxed
So may we now welcome the spring?
Or is it but premature bling?
Should we really focus
On tulips and crocus
Late April, O where wert thy schwing?
Although last month was awfully cruel
Often I come back and re-read these lines, and find the scansion/stress in my head is less clear on the page. :(

Although last month was awfully cruel
So cold it used up my fuel
("...all my fuel"?)
The forecast's Set Fair
For somewhen; for somewhere
So will now head south-east to Kitzbühel
Take one pound of self-raising flour
And some free range eggs into the shower.
Add dandruff shampoo
And a bath bomb or two
Then bake Gas Mark 4 for an hour
I unwisely deployed a molossus
A poetical speed-bump to boss us (Pj) That was difficult
The confounded thing
Took an almighty swing
And impacted my smarting probscis
When it's Friday you don't seem to know it
Then you're told it's the Day Of The Poet
But most say "Thank God"
This verse is not cod Invoking polari
But the lim'rick's a cramped space to show it.
The bin round has started and, phew,
Now diesel fuel's refused - who knew?
Ah! No-one will touch it
But they will take mutt-shit
So my dog's joined the diesel-fed crew.
[Bismarck] Excellent!
It's raining, oh misery, woe.
My home's flooded, oh where shall I go?
On second thoughts, strike the "oh".
Try the roof, for a while
Bed down on pantile?
Failing that, well, just go with the flow
I've acquired a decanter for whisky
But there’s no call to be so tsk-tsk-y
Let's have no half measures
Simply the pleasures
Of raising the urge to get frisky.
In the process of looking for flowers
I was caught in a series of showers
But I had my brolly
And wellies, by golly
Such meteorological powers!
Rising early, I wended to Wales
To research the fledging of snails (They take to the wing and leave the nest mid-June or so, I believe)
I've spent my whole grant
So now I just can't
Deny that it's one of my fails.
A while ago I had this thought:
For greater scansion clarity, given that the line could also be read iambically
A while ago I had this thought:
Can a poetic licence be bought?
Or is it innate?
Let's ask the laureate
Just nick one but do not get caught. It is I, Rosie
My darling cannot understand
Why her planes can't be friends with the land
They circle above
Sighing deeply with love
This whole verse is rather bland
Everything I have done, or would do
I'd do it again, painted blue
I've bought futures in woad
So I'll make a load
Now I own this hex color code too
"Hast seen the white whale?" Ahab cried
It's white on only one side!
On the other — who knows!
Look out! Thar she blows!
”My God! That side’s—”. Then he died
In this bitter and blind and bleak land
Hidden textCompleting my Yeats sequence: I had this thought a while ago / My darling cannot understand/ What I have done, or what would do / In this blind, bitter land
That fell unmade from God's wearied hand
I see nought but crap
Oh, please give me a slap
In return for this gold Krugerrand
The women are coming and going
(Still refusing to fly on a Boeing)
I too think this wise
(They fall out of the skies)
When you fly, that is something worth knowing.
You can try the FT for £1
Hidden text or so it says on my screen, at least
Don't do it; it's boring, I've found
Instead, pay for X
Before Elon Musk wrecks
And then X is no longer around
On a Thursday, one does Thursday things
Such as fletching a new set of wings
Then learning to fly
When Friday is nigh
For who knows what angst Saturday brings?
My cat catches birds just for fun
Their wings broken, see how they run!
Three blinded winged rats
Are her playthings, and that's
Just a taste - now the real fun's begun
My microwave's gone on the blink
It turns all my food into drink
And my drinks into gloop or sludge if that fits your muse better
Resembling fresh poop
Can someone please unblock my sink?
The best way to unblock your sink
(It turns out) is not what you’d think
Just go to your settings
Set twice a day jettings
And make sure your pipes never kink.
This morning I woke with a start
Remembering you broke my heart
And ruptured my spleen
But at least you were clean
But frankly, not a work of art
An old photo, from when I was young
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