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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
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And so it begins....
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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
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