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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
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And so it begins....
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And five miles away, hit the ground.
In my an-nu-al HR appraisal Careful now...
I was told that my tone is too nasal
So I blocked up by doze
With some sweat from by toez
Ad disguised duh sbell wid widge hazal
In order to play the bassoon
You must warm up from April to June
But when playing the flute
You just give a quick toot
and blow (but you'll be out of tune)
My tax return's well overdue
But HMRC, they can stew
The money I owe
For my 'petite Chateau'
Has been spent on a cruise. Toodle-oo!
Last night as I went to 'de loo
An owl in the dark said "too-woo"
If you're hoping to pee
Please don't wee over me
Or I'll spray you with my number two. ( thanks, Mother)
Last night, as I dreamt of my beau
My face was suffused with a glow
'Twas not mere desire          
Hidden text'Twas the ceiling afire, World war two era wiring, you know
Not til it's done.
That kindled my fire
'Twas the treasure concealed down below.
Last night as I grouted some tiles
I tested my masculine wiles
Hidden textSo this is unlikely to end well.
I said to my wife
Please pass me that knife
She stabbed me, but I was all smiles. Muahahahahaha!
Last night I was out of my wits
As I searched the bird-table for tits
All I found was some seed
And something to read It's a bit nippy out, I will take a coat if you don't mind...
-in the chaos of life, it all fits.
This bright Monday morning I'm on
Benzedrine. I'd take more, but they're gone.
Still, life is just dandy
Cos I took them with brandy or shandy
For synergistifica-shon.And rather poor rhythm.
I can think - I can read - I can write
My classification is "bright"
But I just can't do sums
So I'm put with the dumbs
Which I think of as rather a slight.
Top marks for the last one!
But you're boring, you're boring as hell
You're up there with Wisty, E. L.
You drone on and on
'Til all sentience is gone
What is left is just unpleasant smell...
What a pain to have bagged the first line again
For some that's a terrible strain
It challenges the wits
And is very annoying following Software's lead
But turns out alright in the end
There was a young man of Dundee
Who was stung on the neck by a wasp
When asked if it hurt
He replied "Not a bit,
It can do it again if it likes"

One of my favourites. And now, back to our usual program...

How much do you want for that horse?
(I can see you have "Foxhunt Remorse")
Shall we say thirty quid?
That's my last final bid
(three dots and sev'n dashes in Morse).
Huzzah! Pop'n'crisps all round!
"Excuse me", I said to this bloke
"Can you lend me a bob for a coke?"
He looked in my eyes
(That's a trick I despise)
Said "No, here's some pot you can smoke."
I say! What a hideous hat!
What on earth possessed you to wear that?
'Snot a hat, it's a mitre
And it feels so much lighter
Than the halo i wear in the Vat'...
It is Friday and life is so good
Can't be bothered to work, though I should
I'll sneak out to the pub
For a pint and some grub
And drink more than I normally would
An evening in front of the telly
A South Bank Show rerun (George Melly)
A pizza, some beers
Then a rerun of Cheers
And a great rumbling sound in my belly
A protesting voice I must raise
Against your lascivious gaze
My face is up here
So please transfer that leer
To a smile that confirms my boobs you praise
[Marc] I think you were too keen to get your boobs into that last line. I can imagine you're proud of them, but I think you could have tried harder to make them fit. Shocking scansion there, miss.
There was a young fellow from Hull pronounciation ad lib
Who thought that the place was too dull
So he signed on a ship [pen] Yes, I think you are right, there’s much too few lines about boobs nowadays
Donned a pink, silken slip
That would show off his boobs to the full
While donning my pads, gloves and box
Hidden textCricket, if you're confused.
I was shocked when I found my boll-ocks If you can't beat 'em, join em, eh Marc, you mysoginistic arse?
Though my jockstrap is big[pen] I know you are rude and now you have proven to be ignorant and stupid as well, what a pity
It's stuffed with my wig
A banana and two pairs of socks
[Marc] If you must post smut (which, it seems, is all that you have to offer) at least be decent enough to make it rhyme and scan. It's probably too much to ask for it to be interesting, clever or funny as well.
A true sanctimonious mind,
Isn't needed - you'd have to be blind u.s.a.
Or denying the truth
To not know what is couth
So let's all be nice and refined
Refinement, I have it in spades
Hidden textI fucking do.
Well, at least if I look through my shades
I'll see Rosie's demure
And raise it to 'pure'
As she wafts through the sun-dappled glades.
Again, poor Rosie's changed sex
Was it drugs and the knife, or a hex?
No, it's all in the mind
Though it's still undefined
But not if I lower my kecks.
Hidden textLook away NOW.
I'm thrilled with the latest advance
In captivity, they've bred a Wild Pants
It is white with red spots
You can play 'join the dots'
Though its parents may well look askance.
In Midsomer a man has been shot
There it happens more often than not
It's a great place to die
'neath a clear English sky
Do I really think so? Not a lot.
Thank god! Morse and Lewis are here! Netflix Binge declared.
So tremble, ye villains, with fear!
For Oxford is filled
With forensically skilled
And detectives that drink lots of beer
Oh well played everyone! Crisps all round!
And as for Inspector Jack Frost
I fear that his marbles are lost
Though when bending the rules
And suffering fools
That old bridge too far he had crossed.
When you sit on the rail breaking wind (A nice sailing trip anyone?)
Having drunk too much beer that is tinned
Spare a thought for the mate
As you shamelessly deflate
Though my nose and my bum are thick skinned.
While sorting the junk in my loft
The rafters felt distinctly soft
When I trod on a joist
I felt something moist
That gave way the moment I coughed
"It's a very fine object," *cough cough*
It's starting, though, to go off (gough ough)
The pong goes right through
One's sinuses to
make stuff you'll spit into a trough.
A little tidying up:
"It's a very fine object," *cough cough*
It's starting, though, to go ough
The pong goes right through
One's sinuses tough
make stuff you'll spit into a trough.
The maximum speed of a tortoise
Can never keep up with a porpoise Grabbing the only rhyme.
With turbot installed
And the shell well close-hauled
It'll speed up until it has caught us
However, the rate of the hare
Approximates that of a bear
If your math's a bit wonky
I'm certain that Don Qui-
-Xote will make it all square!
Hidden textRaak: Mortise?
Oh Lord, will you please tell me why
The cyclops has only one eye
Yet still remains jocular
Despite being monocular oblig.
And can't watch 3D movies on Sky.
There was a young fellow from Reading
Whose cat just lay sleeping and shedding
amounts of black fur
Fell out at each purr
And he sold it to Hypnos as bedding.
When at the computer I find
I'm not in control of my mind
So Cntl-Alt-Delete
And get to my feet
And go for a jog to unwind.
Egad! From the taps just a drip This one in sympathy for Raak. Limerick Aid
No bathing - no stiff upper lip
I'll be a bit whiffy
So I'll dip in the Liffey
Just as long as no gals see me strip
It's never the greatest idea
To start a fight on Top Gear.
Now Chris E's the new face
A ginger disgrace
Can you hear a toss given? Not here. Sorry chaps! =)
We're on strike 'cause our wages are low
And we're dealing the bosses a blow
They'll have to cough up
And feed our new pup
Or next we'll run a go-slow
Is the Euro to go down the pan?
The Greeks would cheer that to a man
The Drachma'd be back
Get a meal for one sack
While the rest of you pay, that's my plan!
"Can ya lend me a bob 'cause I'm broke?"
"Being totally skint is no joke"
Haven't eaten for days
(My "austerity" phase)
"Here's a quarter of rum and a coke."
There was a young lady from Thame trad.
Who decided to go on the game.
When she spread out her wares
She provoked several stares
Now she's ninety - still on - with no shame...
Now please sharpen your pen and then write
Of the joys of a Flexifoil kite
Or just jot a few words
On its danger to birds
And the warnings of flying at night
The last time I ate a hot curry
I had to dash off in a hurry
My bowels were a-bubble
In the air smell of trouble
And then the inevitable slurry
well done P,B,S,M & R!
On the way home last night - a kebab
Then to A & E for a jab
Seven stitches then home
Wrapped in urethane foam
And then off for six long weeks of rehab
I'll pay for my meal with some rupees
E'en here in Stockton-on-Tees (KS) -You'd have got better rhythm if you'd just left out the word "some".
This Chicken Madras
Spiced with pure Sassafras
Will bring me down to my knees
/hr seems not to be working.....?
I really must protest dear sir
The print on the label's a blur
The tin may have leaked
'Cos my kitchen, it reeked
And smelled like some rotten liqueur. (Rosie . . . um, nope, sorry . . . "Lines 1, 2 and 5 of a limerick should ideally consist of three anapests each" My first line has three anapests just like a limerick should . . . now, as for Stevie's line, it doesn't).
Compare and contrast with English as she is spoke and limericks as they be scanned:
I REAlly must PROtest dear SIR: correct metre, but "PROtest" is the noun.
I REAlly must proTEST dear SIR: "proTEST" is correct, but the metre is trying to be a different verse form:
I really must protest dear sir
This printed label's just a blur
The tin it leaked, my kitchen reeked
And smelled like déclassé liqueur.
I'll PAY for my MEAL with some RUpees: correct metre and word stress but difficult to rhyme with.
I'll PAY for my MEAL with some ruPEES: extraneous "some".
I'll PAY for my MEAL with ruPEES: correct metre, and the stress in"ruPEES" is also correct.
There once was an expert who knew [Raak] Many thanks dear Sir for the lecture, we needed it!
Fuck all about making a stew [Raak]
Hidden textSorry, the stress doesn't turn it from noun to verb in my neck of the woods and it sounds just fine when I say the line out loud. I've never heard anyone call them pro-TEST songs either. So, all-in-all, Thrrrp! 8oP 8ob 8oP
The bucket of gravy Wade in, chaps.
Supplied by the navy
Had a frighteningly bright crimson hue.
"We've defeated the Spanish Armada,"
Cried Drake with consid'rable ardour
We chased them round Britain
So now they're once bitten [Raak]
Hidden text I think KS was claiming the line should be read as 'I'll pay FOR my meal WITH some ruPEES', which is (sorry KS) a very odd reading, given that it requires stressing propositions that would most naturally be the least stressed words in the sentence. As for Stevie's line, my sense, which dictionaries appear to confirm, is that 'protest' as a verb can be stressed on either syllable; I'm not sure if the stress on the first syllable is primarily Am. Eng., but it might be. That said, I do--like you--find the stress on the second syllable to be more natural for the verb.
They'll realize that we are much harder
It's Monday and i'm feeling bored
So I pull the emergency cord
The ejector seats fire
And as I rise higher
"Where's my parachute?", Oh dear Lord!
Those men in their flying machines
Eat nothing, so it's said, but baked beans
And for their own part
The beans will impart
With brown stains on the back of their jeans...
Are you sure that this airplane is safe
Are you sure that this airplane can fly?
If it's safe we can certainly try
So shall I take the stick?
Get aboard and be quick
Just don't tell the pilot! Bye-bye! [Marc] chafe, strafe, waif, Ralph? :)
The dark clouds that are blocking the sun
Remind me just what I have done
As Guildford lies flattened
And seemingly patterned
It's a shame it can't be undone
I've wiped out the Jewel of Surrey
She was hot - kind of cuddly and furry
With a come-hither grin
And a rather square chin
So don't click that link in a hurry
If Guildford's a jewel, what's Dorking?
'Bout 4 hours away, if you're walking.
But if you're on a bike
There's a pub you might like
So step on! Stop standing and gawking!
I thought that I'd broken my wrist
When I swung at your mother, and missed
As my fist hit the wall
The last thing I recall
Was her cackling at me "You're pissed."
So here I sit, in the ER
With my elbow stuck in a jam jar
The sixth hour has passed
I'm having a blast
While the doctor slips off to the bar That's probably not fair and could cause a storm of protest, but all for the sake of scansion and mirth.
The weirdos who live on the hill
Have put all their pigs on the pill
So no little porkers
Will get nobbed by rogue orcas [Softers] Oh, I do so like a challenge...
And think what they'll save on the swill.
The chaps at Piers Gaveston think
That life is all orgies and drink
Countess Marg'ret de Clare
Had better beware
Lest she'll end up in the clink which she did, BTW
In a small, central part of my brain
Is a place ornamented with pain
It's the fault of my mother
'cause she killed my big brother
And it's likely she'll yet kill again.
A student of madness would think
"Funicular! Crucible! Blink!"
or perhaps, "nadge my toes"
Or "nobody knows"
That I normally crap in the sink.
I've bought myself a winter coat true
It's made of weasel, fox, and stoat I think we've just invented the iambic limerick. Lines of 4, 4, 2, 2, and 4 feet and the usual rhyme scheme.
It's wholly organic
So no need to panic
The collar is made from the arse of a goat Adding a few syllables as a reasonable compensation
The good folk of Accrington, Lancs
Were often mistaken for cranks
They spun round and round
With a murmuring sound
As their only football team tanks
This island is home for the night
Although it's a quite gruesome sight
The ferry has sailed
The banshee has wailed
And I'm stuck on the Isle of Wight.
There's a rumour that's doing the rounds
That my head makes peculiar sounds
That's 'cos it's hollow
And so, when I swallow,
There's a noise like the baying of hounds
I have heard there's dog on the moon
Whose bowl is in fact a spittoon
His kennel's a crater
Around the equator
His cries won't be heard 'til next June
I hope that my bonfire will light
So I can fry bangers all night
With a can of cold beer
I shall quote lines from Lear
"O, thou side-piercing sight!"
"Guaranteed from boot-to-bonnet!"
That's Clarkson's first go at a sonnet
It could have been worse
If he pictured a hearse
With luck he could have be on it
I awoke to a fine morning sight
Of the hay in my barn set alight
The insurance will pay
For my next holiday
Due in just a fortnight
I simply don't know how to start
My new sixteen horsepower go-kart
I yanked on this string
It went 'wicketi ping'
And then the machine fell apart.
So I cussed and I brandished my spanner
In typical Clarksonian manner
But Jeremy and Kelly
(Them two off the telly)
Have ordered the parts from Fermanagh
The business of ordering parts
Proceeds both in fits and in starts
Look at the book
Ring them up; they're in Nuuk
And deliver by husky-drawn carts.
When eternity fits in an hour
I barely have time for a shower
But when deadlines draw near
I quiver with fear
And withdraw to an ivory tower
My Cumbrian fell is a-flood
My "carpet"'s now three feet of mud
The rain doesn't stop
Needs more than a mop
And the switch on my ark is a dud
Will it rain now for forty more nights?
Will it reach the top rain record heights?
Because if it does
We'll call out the fuzz
To claim that we've got human rights.
So Christmas has come back around
And Santa, I've heard, is southbound
With his over-full sleigh
He may brighten our day
As he slips in with barely a sound.
Oh my dearest I long for your kiss
Though I fear your technique's hit and miss
Your French kisses I love
They are just hand in glove
And I do care that you are my sis
Farewell to a very poor year
The weather was shite, that is clear
So let us revive
The jitterbug and jive
And party with burgers and beer
I will not stand for whiny complaining
In spite of long immersive training
Though I must say it's wrong
To moan all day long
When the rhymes here are SO entertaining
So farewell then Bowie: bye Dave
You did all the genres, save rave
And for that, we're in awe
'Though our tear ducts are raw
For ecstasy beyond the grave.
Sometimes I cannot resist
Adding whisky to my shopping list
It goes on with the gin
Make our heads start to spin
As slowly we're getting pissed
Hmm.
It's time for a jolly distraction
Like Longleat or some such attraction
Or maybe we could
Stroll through Odell Great Wood
Watching grass growing slowly in action...
Then she said: "I'm lying in your bed"
And I think that butler is dead
So I said, "Call Poirot!"
But Mycroft said "No!"
"We'll eliminate the impossible instead."
To the greenhouse I summoned the cook
"Over there!" I exclaimed. "Take a look!"
"The tomatoes have rust!"
"The sprouts turned to dust!"
He's from Yorkshire, so said "What the fook?"
While I stood in the Post Office queue
And I hoped for position two
But the fellow in front ...careful...
With a snort and a grunt
Said: "I'm stuck. Who the hell spilled that glue!"
The cyan-ACrylate glue sealed his lips
On the table he had fish and chips
But unable to eat Hello Cook
His cod-and-spud treat
He studied the lunar eclipse
It's the year of the Monkey, beware...
That you dress with attention and care
And stop making faces
When you tie your shoelaces
God! You're not doing that with your hair????
In accordance with Standard 14
You must paint your front door in sludge green
Lined out in puce
Or else we'll reduce
The money for being Europeen
The good folk of Chorlton-cum Hardy
Were known for their love of bacardi
When applied to the skin
It was better than gin
And creme CeraVe - it's too lardy
The Burghers of Port du Calais
Have been whooping it up at the Palais
Now the jungle is flat
They think that is that
But more migrants will be there next day.
Last summer I swam 'cross the Channel
Wrapped in the finest of flannel
My expensive pyjamas
With their imprint of lamas
Were hidden behind a pannel.
There once was a fellow named Clark
Who was quite afraid of the dark
So he switched on the light
And got a great fright
As he found himself next to a shark.
It's due time that you upgrade your app
Or else you may fumble your snap
The latest UI
Helps you shoot on the fly
But the editing suite is pure crap
What time does the ferry depart?
The minute that I've found my chart
And topped up with diesel
And fed my pet weasel
But this is Condor and we're missing a part
The Andean Condor's huge wingspan
ex-ceeds the width of my fry-ingpan
And so to sauté it
I bent it to fit
Which spoilt its vocal range, or sing span. Dreadful.
The first day of Spring has just sprung
And I feel like a stallion I'm hung
I'll be frisky for sure
And with all my allure
I'll hide what Spring has just sprung.
Hidden textHey, Lear repeated words in his limericks
There once was a fella named Lear
Who said that he felt a bit queer
When asked what was wrong
He burst into song
And demanded I bring him a beer.
I've a problem with one of my glands
My prostate's come off in my hands
Just squirt it with glue
Then fixate with a screw
Then to hold it in place - rubber bands
There's a stock room of spare body parts
For my practice of ghoulish black arts
In the box labelled "Noses"
Nothing's smelling of roses
And some carrots, Jack Frost's private parts.
The question is free I've been told
But the answer will cost all your gold
Not "The Meaning of Life?"
"How To Murder Your Wife"?
No, it's down the river you're sold
"We are sinking, please finish your soup,"
"Use the loo - we mustn't leave poop."
And then take your turn
As the ship starts to burn
To play "Nearer, my God" on a loop.
It has eight legs! It's there on the floor!
How'd that Octopus get in the door?
It's fresh from the sea
And it's smarter than me
And my God it looks just like Al Gore!
In the land that we now call Iraq
They're proposing to place a blue plaq
On a house in Baghdad
A home for jihad
Where there once lived a young man called Raak
Can you eat up the rest of this flour?
It won't last much more than an hour
We must not let it rise
Or else its sheer size
Will swallow up Shipston-on-Stour
'Tis the 400th year of dear Willy
The bard not the whale, silly billy
After four hundred years
His oeuvre appears
So much better than Milli Vanilli
's
It's May and the sap is a-rising
The new cider looks most appetising
So come all ye drunkards
Lift up your tankards
(Whose contents don't bear analysing)
Through the blossom and meadows I dance
Gazelle-like I pirouette and prance go for it, pen
But, hid by this sedge,
Is my five fruit and veg!
And all of them produits de France
Well, that was an odd one. I hadn't expected that.
The world of Gerard, Count of Nice
Was described in this nice press release:
A Master of Biscuits
Despiser of Triscuits
In quantities from "un" to "six". Sorry [pen], let continental-themed weirdness abound. Nevertheless a stylish finish from [Pablo]
[Meadow Dancing pen] I expected at least one person to post about not wearing any pants. I was going to on line two but thought it would be a better punch line for line five.
In the city of Aix-la-Chappelle
Danced Penelope, like a gazelle
Is that Stevie - both are nude!
In his hand - gee that's rude!
I just hope that they don't kiss and tell
While I was tending my garden
I received from the Queen a full pardon
Writing long lines that don't scan at all
Sent the Sovereign right up the wall
Causing her stance on such infractions to harden.
An infinite number of monkeys
Assisted by five EU flunkies
Rough-drafted a treaty
UK rules for graffiti
To reserve it for registered junkies.
To work out the square root of pi
Please first the last π-digit quantify
Then by taking the log
And a sly sip of grog
You'll be fine - just bluff your way by.
It's one and a bit!
When time, space, and knowledge combine
With superior shape, form and line,
One ought to be dazzled
Or even brain-frazzled
By the stuff that's produced - it's all mine!
When you think you are ready you're not
And the things that you got, you ain't got
So live while you live
'Cos life is a swizz
What you've not got can fester and rot.
Could this chicken be up to fowl play?
From my vantage point, hard to say
It does seem inclined
To sneak up behind
'Til a cock crows and gives it away
It wasn't a fowl 'cos he dived
A move, as in football, contrived
With a kingfisher's grace
To fall flat on one's face
And a red card from the ref is survived
Monday morning - the struggle goes on
To house-train my iguanodon
I'll be hailed as a wizard
Of incontinent lizard
Where a nose-peg's a sine qua non.
I've managed to train up a gazelle
To fart without making a smell!
This flatulent trick
Involves mud and a brick
An ending occurred, but I already had a go -
Hidden text- And it will win me the Ig Nobel!
And a diet of silica gel. (Bis) V. gentlemanly
As I looked out me window last night
I could not but notice a slight
Nasty nip in the air
Though the weather was fair
Fukushima was within sight.
When you're leaving Japan please make sure
That your thoughts and your deeds have been pure.
For the Shinto religion
Protects even a pigeon
From charges of being "manure"
I'm wearing a lightning conductor
Made of copper as per my instructor Stormy in Clogland, pen?
's advice. He was right!
Look what happened last night -
Prematurely discharged when I...engaged her in consensual acts of an intimate nature.
One red carrot I've offered my horse
It bit off my fingers, of course
But aren't horses veggie?
But they can be quite edgy
As my A&E can endorse!
Oh woe is me, I am undone
I thought it was comic and fun
But alas and alack
Everything has turned black
Can we undo the referendum?
So, what is he going to do now?
While waiting to take his last bow?
Will he come 'round again?
Or collapse in great pain?
Or renege on "resign is my vow!"
I'll resign again and again and again
The meaning of this is quite plain
What I've wrought is at hand
I am unfit to stand
If you voted for me then you're insane.
However, I may just bounce back
On my elastic hypocrisy track
As plan B starts fail
My brave face turn pale
I surprise the whole world with my quack.
Let's clear out the old, bring in new
And toss out the false, bring in true
Give us hope, peace and love
And harmony, aw'right bruv?
I've told you 'bout sniffing that glue!

Mercy Killing invoked.
Software - Let us clear out the old, bring in new
Stevie - And toss out the false, bring in true
Marc - Give us hope, peace and love
Rosebud - Olive branches - white dove
Peacemaker - And one day our dreams will come through.
What we need is a quick coup de gr?ce
Oh woe, it doesn't take extended character sets...
What we need is a quick coup de grace
And, should such a thing come to pass,
Don't say "Coo de Grah"
Lest you prompt a fnarr
Then we kill you with pure poison gas...
When you leave will you please close the door
Or the whole house will smell of your spoor
"daw ... spaw ... spaw ... daw..."
Your best friends haven't told you
That fungus on you grew
The day you came back from The War
Men of Harlech! The Zulus are risin'
Dead are heap'd with dying! (How surprising)
On to Bulawayo!
I'm declaring this one a bad steer on account of poor scansion and attempted forcing of people to type something about Ketshwayo instead of opening up vistas of wit. My fault not entirely
Down the church hall they're all on parade
To acclaim killer Stevie's blockade.
Harlech's W.I.
Hidden text[Stevie] what did you have in mind when mixin' races like that? That Zulu chief was far from my mind, it was more a challenge to see what could be found on the Bulawayo road, summat like: Men of Harlech, the Zulus are risin'//Dead are multiplying (How surprising)//On to Bulawayo!//Where the darkies we'll K.O.//Thus apartheid loomed on the horizon.
Went on an excursion to Skye
They sailed o'er the sea
For a nice cup of tea ...normal service etc
With a Talisker dram - oh aye-aye!
There was a young man from Prestatyn
Who saw a knob and pressed that in
A twenty-ton weight
Was released and fell straight
on his head - the result was to flatten
Way back in my Ministry days
In charge of Hampton Court Maze
I engaged Alan Turing
Thus firmly ensuring
That we're leaving the Maze walking sideways. (Alan didn't walk straight, did he...?)
Back then, I commanded the troops I think I'm heading for trouble with this one.
By Jove, I'd them jumping through hoops!
English as she's spoke
With a fnoot sull of coke
S'like impossible hooptroop de loops
How about:
Back then, I commanded the troops I think I'm heading for trouble with this one.
By Jove, had 'em jumping through hoops!
When out on parade
Primed on neat lucozade
They lined up in sugary groups
My afro is fulsome and pert!
Likewise my black rubber skirt Today I am a hovercraft
I'm dressed up so nice
My chin dabbed with Old Spice
You must think me a terrible flirt!
My tonsure requires some repair
It's become overgrown, here and there
In the cloister, it's said
I look like Judge Dredd
A parable I think is unfair.
Do you mind if I ask you to shave?
Yes, I do; I'm going to a rave
It's not OTT
To grow a goatee
In the shape of a stone architrave
Why aye man, Irn Bru's just the thing
At a "Spinners" reunion in Tring
It puts hairs on your chest
Which women detest
So go gay, and let MEN pull your ring. It's OK, I already picked up my coat
The gas-man is mending a leak
Hidden text(Pj) You are disgraceful person:-)
And he uses the latest technique
Of taking a match
To set fire to the thatch
- next thing, there's a blood-curdling shriek.
No smoking! No pipes! No Cigars!
Says the sign in the passenger cars
When I need a good puff
I call the guard's bluff
It went wrong. I was put behind bars!
Now that Hamish has finished his tea
He'll meet Dougal, just wait and see...
And, inspecting his flask
Its contents? - don't ask
(...it's a mixture of Bourbon and pee.) Coat please...
Enough of the Scots! Let's talk Swede!
It's a thing all my vegetables need!
My turnips want more
It's a bit of a bore
But it helps when they start to set seed.
There was a young lady from Bude trad
Allergic to all sorts of food
Nuts, gluten, and soy
She could never enjoy
Their effect on her bowels was just rude
There was a young man out of Rhyll Redressing the balance a taff tad.
Who ran up a huge restaurant bhyll I blame the spellchecker
By scoffing ten courses
He thereby endorses (pen) One "l" in Rhyl. Hard luck.
Credit card use at the thyll
The goddess of love (name of Venus)
Is wearing no clothes - it's tawdriness
She steps out of her shell
But - Dear God - the smell
Being locked up so long is quite heinous
And lo, the seasons doth change
No more hay-fever, now it's the mange
Or frost-bitten toesies
Hidden text(Stevie) Stand nearer the soap
Get out your knee cosies
Home sweet home on the (kitchen) range.
I've been equinoxed twice now this year!
An excuse to break out the beer
And play Jean Michel Jarre
Loud, in my car
Hidden text(Bis) Not quite yet. The equinox is at 1422 UT, 4 miinutes away as I type this.
While doing a ton in first gear
[Pablo] Did you pass me on the motorway this morning?

Roaring past at a hundred and ten
Pablo altered the volume and then
Jean Michel Jarre
Howled out of his car
What an earful for fearful young pen!
Let us dance a Dark Morris to bring
An end to this ludicrous fling
Do some hop 'n bop 'n
To rhythms forgott'n
Then your hook you can sling
While waiting for Godot one day
I think that I thought - 'come what may'
Was a bad Abba song
That stood out from the throng
Coz they sang it in G - should be A
It says not to try this at home
It's a thing you can do with a gnome
But please to take care
When you do it and where
Don't forget your protective Styrofoam.
Use a Styrofoam hat when you bike
With Styrofoam pants, if you like
Then add Styrofoam socks
To ward off hard knocks
It's a trick they used in the Third Reich.
I shall take my laboratory rat
And feed it five kilos of fat
Grow it big as a dog
Then inject egg-nog
And see if it goes for the cat.
Could be, there's a Nobel in this
We can make IPA from my piss! [Sorry Phil, if you're watching]
So, pen, get drinking
And never stop thinking
And telephone Greene King
Hidden textOo-er... simulapologies. Sorry.
That recycling realy is bliss
That brew of the gods, IPA
So don't let anyone say
It's just flavoured water
And drink it you oughta
With a smile, right after you pay
Hidden textFor the record, one really has no high gound to stand on if one goes where that last-but-one effort went so quickly.
I've launched a crowdfunding campaign!
Hidden textThe poor man's Nobel?
To design an intelligent brain
With some High-Tech connections
I've high expectations
Or it's 50 grand straight down the drain
Oh well done everyone! Crisps all round!
[Stevie]You are handcuffed and arrested for inferior rhyming. Here are samples of some correct choises: affections, collections, complexions, confections, convections, corrections, defections, detections, directions, dissections, ejections, election's, elections, erections, infections, inflections, injections, inspections, objection's, objections, projections, protections, reflections, rejections, selections
(Stevie) I think he means choices but what do I know.
[Rosie] I like his/her use of "correct" as the compliment of "inferior" myself. And my response is, as always, that the commentator, having asserted their superiority, is now free to indulge their love of sex and that of travel simultaneously.
Choose your words carefully, now
And enunciate "How now, brown cow?"
And make sure not to write
That the kids is all right [Rosie, Stevie] Hiding behind a pseudonym? Never a good stance for those assuming the role of scansion and rhyming police, nor for Brexiteers for that matter.
For some lurker will make you kowtow.
It is words that maketh the man
Just so long as they rhyme and they scan
Hidden text[Rosie] I think he meant options. There was only one choice to be made. Also, I wonder why 'election' and 'objection' were rendered in both plural and possessive form. Ho hum, we shall probably never know.
But what makes the lasses careful now...
Is poetry classes
Someone should tell Princess Anne. (pen) penult. Not guilty, Miss. The rather bumptious miscreant remains at large.
(Softers) You bin up nawf or sunnink?
Princess Royal - how lovely thou art
E'en when your horses do fart
From a surfeit of hay
Carrots, lentils, and whey
Don't stand too close when they depart.
Good heavens! Don't make such a fuss
They'll all think that you're just a wuss
Stop that complainin'
Just cos it's rainin'
And it's three hours before the next bus
"Give me your arm", said the nurse
While I half-inch the cash from your purse
We're not paid enough
So we have to get tough
But Brexiters' promises are worse
Re: BREXIT: The will and the way
Are frankly in some disarray
Why Article 50
Is getting more shifty Oblig.
And further away by the day
The tabloids are ranting of treason
It's their spleens and their bile that they're easin'
But their ignorant bile Can't call it anything else...
We must take with a smile
Till the count's in. Then comes the apeasin'
Enough with this democracy!
A tyrant's what we need
Who will make up the rules
Not giving a bugger about what works or not
Just like the players of this game
I think a glow-worm was struggling to get out there:
Enough with this democracy!
A tyrant's what we need.
He'd rule without hypocrisy
By one rule: his own greed.
Enough with this democracy
Let's try a spot of anarchy
No political boss
No giving a toss
No Don and no Hil bugging me

Just off the top of my head, in stream of conciousness. My start was good and offered an easy array of pertinent rhymes. Everyone else was to blame. I'm keeping these crisps. 8oP
I preferred the original.

In matters of scansion and rhyme
We abide just some of the time
But when we do not (Raak) It was, and my fault too. I'm 73, you know.
We react on the spot
And wax wroth in interpretive mime.
Hidden text[Rosie] I'm only a decade and a bit behind you.
Dear Hill'ry don't cry - you've got Bill
I'm sure he can give you a thrill
With a Cuban cigar
So nothing can mar
Your joy at the ring of the till.
That's it, for another four years
We'll hear nothing but wailing and tears
And old Lady Luck
Appears to be stuck
And you're all quite correct in your fears
When all the "Trumpettes" start yelling foul
I'll cover my head with a towel
You're donning a turban?
How quaintly suburban!
We Valley Girls wear "Hillary's cowl." that'll do.
Way up on a peak in the Andes
Or down on the banks of the Ganges
One stands and one stares
One mutters one's prayers
While lighting regretful our candles...
The Siberian Filigree Hamster
Hidden text Glad to see Marc is keeping up the tradition :)
Foreshadows a rhyming disaster
So I'll have an orange
One rose that is yellow
Schadenfreude to make Superman swear?
Tradition is seldom surpassed
By stuff that relates to the past
Nostalgia is fine,
Hidden textOoh, I swear... I can feel a Stevie-level strop coming on for that previous limerick treatment :)
Like a noble old wine
But the future goes past rather fast
The meaning with Christmas I think
Is that it's a good time to drink
I can't be the first you're welcome
With a seasonal thirst
But that punch looks suspiciously pink.
This year I'd like Santa to bring
The album Herb Alpert Plays Swing
And a Rover P6
A timepiece that ticks
And a furlong of Number Two string.
Scrooge said, "Now that old Marley's dead,"
"His riches are now mine instead"
But three ghosts made him see
Things quite differently
As one by one they turned up in his bed.
Bob Marley, a singer-songwriter,
Once asked me to lend him my lighter
To stoke up his spliff
And I would've done - if
I could find it. Where is it?, the blighter. I lose things, everything, all the time.
While drinking a small glass of sack
Guess who bumped into my back?
A small, forlorn elf
Who looked like Will Self
For both reasons, he went on the rack.
One for Stevie, as he asked :)
While I rode on the LIRR
I tuned my acoustic guitar
To the key of B flat
As we all sat and sat
But the train didn't move very far
Choose a chord, and then play it with speed
A G minor sixth's what you need
Modulate to E flat
F sharp with that
A very nice ringtone indeed
[pPRSS] A masterpiece for cellphones indeed...
The Finger Print Lock for my phone
Will exclude any omi palone
But if I lose my touch
Or get drunk, or some such
It unlocks with the right type of moan
My telephone's battery is dead
So I think I'll try shouting instead.
At least I won't squint
Or cast it to print
That you put in the shredder unread
We will soon see another dictator
Little Donald, whose motto is "greater"
His first action will be
To grope girls (two or three)
While tweeting "Obama's a traitor."
I just found a bunch of "fake news"
While tweeting "Obama's a traitor."
I just found a bunch of "fake news"
According to Trump, it's abuse
And badly written, to boot
Himself to disrepute
The world thinks he has blown a fuse...
Will they give him a standing ovation
Or just give him a straight flat castration
I'm hoping the latter
Cos castratos are fatter
So fat chance of shafting the nation
This Friday the First Trump will sound
And our dreams will crash down to the ground
Cometh hail mixed with blood
An avalanche of crud
Or a dollar worth more than a pound
But the man isn't president yet! 33 hours at the time of posting...
Sorry, 45 if you count up to midday on 20th
Soon he is and to all that's a threat
The nukes do his bidding
(Don't think he's kidding)
And then it's Auf Wiedersehen, Pet
There once was a loudmouthed clown
Who stuck his name all over town
On a poster that said
"Wanted: Living or Dead"
They shot him, and then he piped down.
A big fat notorious lier
Is the state to which marrows aspire!
For every courge's
Desire to be bourgeois
Grinds the people down. Ready! Aim! Fryer!
My lies are alternative facts
So your claim that my previous acts u.s.a.
Are truly obnoxious
Is thoroughly poxious
Same to you, no returns, to the max.
The last Jedi, alone on a hill
Stared wildly at his cell phone bill
His vast roaming charges
On spacefaring barges
So he hides - but they find him at will!
In an X-wing outbound for the Death Star
I was munching on a Mars® bar
When the Admiral said
"Right - full steam ahead!"
Then we crashed into Star Alcazar
My august predecessor once said,
"If you don't make a million, you're dead"
Now I sell p3n1z p1llz
Made of porcupine quills
Will you test them tonite in your bed...?
"Dear Sir, I am not one of those"
"Correspondents whose flowery prose"
Obfuscates my true meaning
My gist needs no gleaning
It hits you right there, on the nose.
My new novel will be out next week
For a giggle, I wrote it in Greek
And I used pseudonym
Jakob Ludwig Karl Grimm
But the press let my real name leak.
Christ almighty this bad weather sucks!
You'd think that El Niño's in flux!
Snow, hail and fog
It's not fit for a dog
It's the fault of those pesky Canucks.
My moped won't start, so these chocs
Won't stay very long in their box
A sweet compensation
For utter frustration
With a martini, stirred, on the rocks.
Mister Bond with a license to kill
Took position on top of Box Hill
His Sig Sauer set ready
His aiming arm steady
He knows there is no better thrill.
When it gales I'll mither and gall mis-using word types wild
The mizzle will bother and fall
While rainth and sleetch fail
It's time for the shail!
And the frog shall obscure parts of Gaul.
This coffee I made tastes like paint
And just a slight trace of boar taint
I should have used water
'Cos it clogs my aorta
Can I sit down? I feel faint
This paint I've just mixèd tastes sour
I hope it won't spoil happy hour
Lemon juice is the base
With TiO2 paste
With my tins of paint I make art
With my jars of jam I make a tart
For my name's Jackson Pollock
And with my third bollock
I'll redirect every fart.
Here's a few of my favourite things
Suckers and contracts with strings It's the Trump in me coming out
This ball of blue wool
This pint glass that's full
And a nice poker hand with five Kings.
Have you heard the sensational news
There's a tax to be placed upon pews!
A surcharge on the kneelers
No discount for dealers
So whatever you do, you will lose
I hear that they plan to tax farts In honour of the government of my home nation, who several decades back proposed a fart tax on cows because of their methane emissions. Carn the Kiwis!
And use it to promote the arts
We'll be arty as hell
Despite the foul smell oblig.
Emanating from our nether parts.
My kiwi is acting all strange
Could be myxomatosis or mange
I don't think it's rickets
Or harassment by prickets
More likely it's sex interchange.
I've been thinking of you ever since
You showed me those black and white prints
Nostalgic it was
To remember, because
They're before all those crap pastel tints
I remember that back in the day
The catchphrase that people would say
Was "splash it all over!"
"Have a roll in the clover!"
Or "Go ahead, punk, make my day."
Nice one all. Simons Mith wins the internet.
I spoke to the fellow in charge
About hiring a quinquireme barge
He told me his boat
Would just about float
And the slaves came without turbocharge.
When you're rowing make sure you've got oars
Or you'll struggle to get to new shores
To the oars, add a boat
One with rowlocks, please note
And some friends who can help - eights or fours
While trying to seduce Doris Day
You were punched by Rock Hudson, you say?
It was all in good fun
I was dressed as a nun
And everyone knows that he's gay
At a hog roast I met Steve McQueen
Where I told him his hog looked piss green
So he took me aside
Said: "You'd better go hide,"
"Or I'll rip out and swallow your spleen."
Hidden textI guess no-one wanted to play into the double meaning of "hog roast"
While watching the Titanic sink
I thought, "What I need's a stiff drink."
So leave out the ice
And don't mind the price
Singing "Nearer, My God, to Thee", I think.
Raise your voice let us all sing along
As the world goes to hell, sing this song:
"Toodle-oo, toodle-ay",
"Zippa-do-dah, de-ay"
But it won't stop things going wrong
If you sing "Rule Britannia" off-key
You'll upset the world order, you see
So you'd better shut up
And just drink a cup
Of thick, brown, lukewarm NAAFI tea
Gadzooks! Odds bods! Lack-a-day!
I was just now outbid on ebay!
The thing that I want
Pour ma fille débutante
Was sniped, but that's fine - I can't pay.
I talk to the trees, but in vain
I get blanked (is that planked?), in the main
Though one answer I've got
Is that they all talk rot
Ooh! Must run! It's the Whitecoats again!
The voice in my head said last night
"You ain't Einstein, now would I be right?"
For all of the thinkin'
And smokin' and drinkin'
Deceive me to think that I'm bright.
P, S, Ks, R, M - splendid.
Whenever there's lightning about
Your golf club do not wave about
For Zeus hates the game
And you'll be to blame
When you've been reduced to grout.
When it's cold up at 'mill, then it's time
To drink a large lager and lime
In the Rover's Return Oblig.
(Some folk never learn)
To enjoy and live life - it's springtime!
From "Pea and honey...", a quatrain that was rejected owing to its limerick-nature.
My ancient Marina still goes
Like an elephant in its last throes
Hidden textBismarck masquerading as Raak, for convenience
With motion unsteady
I still get it ready
With or without any clothes...
We will sail with the tide, get aboard
Bring your pirate hat, rum, and your sword
Practice "Gyarr!" and "Landlubberrr!"
You scurvy deck-scrubber,
Till your accent is slightly less flawed
The echo in here is quite odd
I said "Who's there?" and got the reply "God."
My hearing aid batt'ry
Straight from the fact'ry
I am sure was an ungodly fraud.
In the the Liverpool Echo today
"Ken Dodd Has Been Charged With Affray"
The Diddy Men claim
That his pantomime dame
Started it with her hairspray.
Meanwhile, oop north in York
Adele had a battle wi' Bjork I know that's not how Bjork would pronounce 'Bjork', but by 'eck it is 'ow a Yorkshireman'd say it.
They both donned t' clogs
Took t'bats and t'dogs
They don't care how the neighbours will talk
When Shakespeare put pen to paper
He could write a jolly good caper
With lots of cross-dressing
That had the queen's blessing
And swordfights with epée or sabre.
Gadzooks, forsooth and odds bods!
Facebook posters are miserable sods
They say "Look at mee"
And, "Wow, you're sexy!"
And post pictures of food - well, ye gods!
See my mouse! See my fresh Charlotte russe! I'll give you pictures of food... and internal rhymes on every line too!
As with gusto I wave my wand thus! You're catching an accent there if "mouse" rhymes with "russe", pen...
Hey presto! They're gone!
Dammit, I meant 'mousse'!!!
It's a visual con
Then she left with the five o'clock bus...
Then the busdriver asked: " Who are you?"
I said I was from Timbuctu
And I wanted a ticket
He said "Don't be thick, it.....
Costs four quid. You only dropped two.
Who knows where the fifty nine goes? While we're on the buses - see what I did there?
Check the front, that's where it shows
"Timbuctu via Kent"
Why, it seems heaven-sent!
A des(s)ert of apples. Who knows?
And then three came along, all at once
A burglar, a vandal, a nonce sorrysorrysorry
In a cell they were placed
Spun three times, and then faced
A chap who was clearly a ponce. What other rhyme is there?
It's my fault things are as they are
You could have done better by far
By ignoring me quite
A lot out of spite A torch burning there in the sconce / A man who clubbed me in the bonce
If I could change Stevie's line to It's done out of spite:
Signed: Beelzebub. BWAHAHAHAA!
[Bizzers] Mate, you can't. If you can't work with the line provided, step back and let someone else do it. Ironic really, given that this Lim is all about 'you could have done better' innit?
[Bismarck] Your replacement line doesn't really follow the previous one smoothly in my reading of it, providing a mental derailment when the whole limerick is read through. Good finish though.
I live and learn. [Stevie] "Quite" as in "completely", and it would need a semicolon. So a poor effort overall.
There's no choice to make but live and learn
Said the discouraged author Jules Verne
sotto voce Funny, that first lined scanned this morning when I wrote it
There's no CHOICE to make BUT live and LEARN
said the DIScouraged AUTHor jules VERNE. Where's the problem? Nine syllables each line. Stress on each third syllable. Job done.
(pen) Have you been at those Hobnobs again? That first line is far too long. What about
No choice but to live and to learn
Said discouragèd author Jules Verne.
So he threw down his pen
Resigned there and then
After final full stop he adjourned.
Tom Stoppard wrote plays that are puzzling
And summarized thusly: "man does thing"
His philosophy is
'Tho this ain't a quiz
That breasts are for guzzling and nuzzling. Coat!
One day as I ran for my train
With an unusual thought in my brain
"Why is Brian Billick…" Do-or-do-not Rhyme declared. It's good to be back.
So useless at Cyrillic"
Then I tripped and my ankle did ??????
Wot happened there? I wrote "sprain" in Cyrillic; it looked fine on preview and then went awry when I clicked "Stand".
I guess you sprained the website.
[Kim] This is a frequently encountered ????????.
Something not quite ?????? about the Unicode ?????????.
The ultimate fate of all glass
(Mostly that of the "superfine" class)
Is to be blown and then cut sailor
And to wound someone's butt
While not being mistaken for brass.
I don't really care for this rain:
Loudly I curse but in vain
But still, it is better
It's finer and wetter
But not as warm as in Spain
The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain
But five iambs do not make limerick metre.
The rain doesn't fall here in Spain
A god job too; there's only one drain
It's blocked up with leaves
"Get it clear, Jeeves!"
"Or we'll be flooded all the way to the Seine!"
At a meeting in Trumpton town hall
Was decided to hold a great ball
So Barney McGrew
Did all he could do
Makin' moves, takin' names, standin' tall
Now harken ye unto my words bit pissed actually
That fly from my mouth like the birds
Do each to each other
Though I'm your big brother
You're swimming this pond filled with turds
Five pints and two limoncellos
For myself and these very fine fellows
Lads and lassies; A toast!
We salute our great host
Who's the owner of these fine bordellos...
When it rains, like it did here last week
With no paddle, I'm up the creek
The Thames is all flooded
London's all muddied
Perhaps the Flood Plan needs a tweak?
Whilst taking some stuff to the dump
My car coughed up its fuel pump
So I dumped the car too
In this outside loo
Next time on a bus I will hump
A dirty old man on a bus
Held his belly in place with a truss
This thing itches, said he
As he scratched his left knee
Which promptly oozed mountains of pus.
A dirty old man on a train We might as well work our way through all of this in one go then move onto something more tasteful.
In a raincoat 'though there's no rain
Attracted attention
But I'm loath to mention
The revelation his knobby old cane Mine's the Pitt jacket, thanks
My Tinder account has been hacked
My front patch of lawn has been fracked
My driveway undermined
My steeple inclined
…Has my Guardian Angel been sacked?
I've heard of a dastardly plot
Of drones to be hacked and taught     Silly little things.
Airborne death from above
Like a turd from a dove ?
Sounds sweet but stinks quite a lot. (DrQ) Interesting use of this.
[Rosie] The Low Back Merger. Snigger.
Facebook's become quite a bore
And Twitter just seems like a chore
Instagram; MySpace;
(which is out of the race)
And Tumblr and G+ I abhor!
As I rub-a-dub-dubbed in my tub
Hidden textThey can't touch you for it!
In the bath fell my USB hub
I lost my connection
And a very small section Obviousness avoidance invoked
Of data, then started to blub
On the thirty-third day of September
We were told, and will always remember:
Tis the Feast of St. Bart
When there's cucumber tart
From now till the end of December
I once took a trip to Penzance
Just to by a brand new pair of pants
With a piratey flair
And a glittery glare
Then I found in my pants there were ants
I've booked a staycation in Tring
Come what may - we will make anything
Until it Herts
In my Google alerts 'Say what you see' Dusty Bin wildcard invoked
To see TripAdvisor's rating. - "Get out of logical framework free" card played
Hidden text "Improvement" of a previous Lim... Sorry Marc!
I once took a trip to Penzance
Just to buy a brand new pair of pants
With a piratey flair
And a glittery glare
And flares three feet wide - Elegance!
Today when I opened my post
It got smeared with some hot buttered toast Never open letters at the breakfast table.
The letter inside
Was sixteen feet wide
'twas a note of demand from my host.
"Dear Sir, it's regarding your rent,"
"We need currency, sir, not intent"
"Your kids as security"
"To ensure their futurity"
"Is a legal non-starter (in Kent)"
I remember it cost two pound ten
But that was in - oh, way back when
We used L s d
Now it's pound coins and pee
Here's a cheque. Can I borrow your pen?
I pay with my smartphone, you see
I'm a smartass, there's no one like me
But my phone cost a bomb
I said with aplomb
It's a shame that it's only 2G
I have to inform you, young man
That if you drink beer from a can
You'll lose the scent
So if that's your intent
You can get in the back of the van!
That blank look takes over my face
When someone says they play bass
Or fondle their fiddle
Or drums a paradiddle
And it's time to get out of this place.
Within short I will make a comeback
Papa baffs na go give um dey sack declaring pidgin wild
All along the Zambezi
I'll make it look easy
Because I just have the knack
My guardian angel looks down with fright.
At the things I get up to at night
Under cover of dark
I sneak to the park
And give the shins of lovers a smite.
From next door, there's an awfully loud din
As the neighbours play drums on their bin
With saucepan lid cymbals
Played loud with thimbles
While I jam on my old mandolin. (Hi George!)
There once was a talented writer
Whose fans thought her such a delighter
That at her book signing
They just stood there, pining
For the off-chance they each might just sighter
These new Kindle e-book hacks suck "hack" as in bad writer; they abound in the Kindle self-publishing world.
On lemons as they write their muck
The resulting acidity crap scansion
Ends in lividity
At the rubbish you get for your buck.
Five Bitcoins I've got in my purse
They're better than cash - quite perverse
For they're not really real
Though easy to steal
They're easy to spend, and that's worse.
There's a hole in my new christmas sock
That fits snugly around my cock
However, it itches
When inside my britches
So I line it with large leaves of dock.
Moving swiftly on...
Let us think of the coming New Year
And deck ourselves out in flash gear
And I promise you this
I won't take the piss sorrysorrysorry - it was asking to be done
Which means that I won't be a Peer (Claims Worst Pun of 2018 So Far Award)
Now I've shuffled the deck - will you deal?
With twenty-five cards? You for real?
With no aces or kings
We've no arrows nor slings
But fortune outrageous, I feel.
So, now the New Year's under way and no naval types try to tell me it's "weigh" please...
And I've escaped the vile Opus Dei If we are talking the Warring States period of China, it could be "under Wei"
So our future is bright
To pursue the good fight
To bury Theresa May.
There are Tories and Whigs at my door Seeing as we are going political
In big herds never seen heretofore
For Tandridge foments chance'd be a fine thing
'Midst back bench laments
While we blankly ask "What's it all for?"
In Bangalore there's someone called George
Who went to the Marble Rocks Gorge
Where he laid out his tea
At a quarter past three
With Messner, Mutschlechner and Dorje.
There once was a thinker named Kant
Who encountered a large elephant
Which viewed him suspiciously
Then charged him quite viciously
Hidden textThat vicious and viscous won't get me again like it did at my 8th grade spelling bee!
Hence Africa: A Mad Kant 'Phant Rant.
When I was a child in 8th grade
My one wish was to see a parade
Where the Grenadier Guards
Would light their petards
And put Manneken Pis in the shade.
He made once a shocking mistake
Confusing the clutch with the brake
The resulting collision
Caused a minor division
Of his spine which then gave him a backache.
When the moon goes into eclipse
As it orbits its usual elipse
Its super blue blood
Turns the colour of mud
The same colour as Aunt Hilda's lips...
Her lips filled with Botox were blue
Like those of my other aunt, Sue
And her daughter, young Shelley,
(Who's been on the telly)
Got the same effect from a tattoo.
It will soon be St Valentine's Day
And every chaste maiden cries HOORAY!
But a bunch of dead roses
Shoved under their noses
Won't take their chasteness away
[Software]: "chase", surely?
I once, in the season of Lent,
Spent thirty-nine days in a tent:
Eating corned beef and beans
With a helping of greens
And sat with my bum to the vent.
On the last day of Lent I gave in
I was getting quite dangerously thin
So I binged on ice cream
"Wild thinged" the whole team
Then threw up in the bin
And then threw it all up in the bin.
Could today be the first day of Spring?
We'll know just by checking one thing:
Has the groundhog appeared?
If he has he is weird!
If not his hook he can sling
There's never much snow on the ground
At least, not where I'm to be found
In far Timbuctu
Where I sit on the loo
Performing while folks gather round.
I once met a chap in Tibet
Who flew around on a carpet
Levitation you know
Is a nodding dog's show (I'm taking a carpet to be a small stuffed animal sitting on the parcel shelf.
Well, just how kitsch can you get?
There was a young man from Goonhilly   Family Show declared.
Who did something ever so silly
At old Jodrell Bank Careful now...
Well, I gotta be frank
He lip-synced to Milli Vanilli
Well done! Everyone pick up their Whitehouse Awards at the door.
'Tis true that there's snow on the roof
And it's bleedin' cold aht, that's the troofEastenders variation invoked
So if that mahfy cahhh
Wiv an arse like a saa
Shouts "brass monkeys", well, she's just uncouth.
It's snowing again. What a thrill
To go jingle my bells with a will
As I ride on my sleigh
As I did Christmas day
Now it's over - please hand me that pill...
Left hand down a bit. All stop. REVERSE!
Navigation? Well this is perverse!
Is the blindfold essential?
It tests your potential
Of posting your lines in free verse...
Good grief, is the sun coming out?
It's not - so shudda your mouth!
This wintery spring
When the birds ceased to sing
Has put 'Global Warming' in doubt (the author would like to acknowledge that weather is not the same as climate)
In Downing Street there's this old girl
Whose life is a dizzying whirl
With her mates Don and Boris https://img.huffingtonpost.com/asset/59bfe4ba1a00007100f073b5.jpeg?ops=scalefit_630_noupscale
Dancing the Brexit Morris
But the sight will just make you hurl
Lord Buckethead, now. There's a fellow
He seems to be quite sane and mellow
But his good friend Lord Sutch
Was a little too much
He wouldn’t just scream, he would bellow.
The news of today is insane
Some doctor transplanted his brain
Leaving him dead
Wi' nowt in his head
Is it time for elections again?
Have ye seen the white whale that I seek?
I heard it wis here just last week
It usually lurks
By the old plankton works
Which made ten tons a day at its peak.
I like that one. Crisps all round.
[Stevie] Thanks! crunch Mmm. Plankton.
I fear I must write in complaint.
That they're calling Churchill a saint.
'Cos everyone knows
From his head to his toes
The complaint re: this "saint" is:- He ain't!
In Limerick once lived a lad
Whose personal hygiene was bad
'Twas said that his stench
Could be sensed by the French
And drove all within twenty feet mad.
I asked a French mate about that
He sucked on his teeth and then spat
"Ça me fait chier"
"De sentir ses pieds"
And that was the end of our chat.
Body language is hard to ignore
Like the way that you just slammed the door
I get the impression
You've succumbed to depression
And don't give a toss anymore
Nice one everyone. Crisps all round.
I spread joy as much as I can
(It's easy in my ice cream van)
The power of a flake
Or sprinkles will make
You feel much more like a man
I am sure that it was a mistake
To serve ice-cream on top of a steak
My meat à la mode
And the juices which flowed
Proved my Michelin star was a fake.
May the fourth be with you and your clan
Today's May the fifth; change of plan
But we'll still catch a ride
On the outgoing tide
Sailing fourth in a black garbage can...
My Yacht "Miss 4 Sail" is for sale,
She's a great little boat for a male
She's sleek, trim and yar
For some pretty Jack Tar
But will sink without trace in a gale.
I'd quite like to buy a new boat
For sailing around in my moat
I'd be out with the tide
And the laundry beside
Is efficiently washed as I float.
At the Inn named "Y Knot" in old Cowes
Sat a sailor with knotty eyebrows
He’d accost every stranger
With "You - Percy Grainger?"
When he'd drunk more than five curaçãos.
What is your pleasure, then? It's my round.
At this, the old codger just frowned
"I'll give this one a miss"
"For I'm off to the loo"
To piddle all beer I have downed.
A cold shower's a good start to the day
Or a swim in the cold Hudson Bay
Just slap on some grease
Point the satnav at "Nice"
And tuck all your tackle away
The occasional bellowed profanity
Shall not discommode our urbanity
Though we know that it will
If it's heard in Seville
Because they lack basic humanity
I remember a chap from Brazil
Who claimed to have found Yggdrasil
Unfortunately
twa's exorbitantly
Faked from paper-stuffed cavalry twill
I once met this god from Olympia
Whose garb could not have been skimpier
In wine, he would swim
Thus keeping in trim
Though his drunkenness made him seem wimpia
I have here a one-metre rule
That has ferules that are really quite cool
And a legible grading
(Although it's now fading)
After long frequent use in the school
I don't think that I've seen one of those
Being used in the way that you chose
But improvisation
Gets my acclamation
As a wonderful artistic pose
Now these you can buy by the yard
They start soft but then go really hard
They're not thixotropic
Nor yet hygroscopic
CDs with the movies "Die Hard"
In my youth, I would go around with
A load of yobs from Penrith Pedanticus writes: It has to be pointed out that the "th" in "with" is voiced, making strict rhyming impossible. Using Welsh is not possible because the stress would be on the wrong syllable. The only solution to this impasse is to assume marked Caledonian chararcteristics on the part of Superman
Although we came via
Hidden textRosie: I was always under the impression that myth, blacksmith, and monolith rhymed with "with"
The Mull of Kintyre oblig.
No-one among us was a sound-smith
8o/
I was hoping we'd get a Sith in there somewhere.
(KagShu) I'd say the difference is like the difference between the th's in thing and there, this, that etc. I don't think there's any difference between American and British English on this point.
[Superman] You can hope, and you can stack the deck with a difficult rhyme in the first line, but in the end you get no more say in the finished product than if you'd played a move that offered wide-open possibilities to everyone else.
In my youth I'd knock about
With the grandson of Ebenezer Prout
He was fun, was young Fred,
It's so sad, now he's dead,
He was, though, a bit of a lout. highly unlikely
(Raak) I have here a copy of Prout's "Counterpoint, Strict and Free". It was bought by my Dad in Tunbridge Wells and he has put the date (Jan 18 1941) and his name and address on the flyleaf. The address is in Crowborough, where I was born, but I've no idea if it was where I lived for the first two years or whether it was in one or both of two other addresses in said town. Should've asked - bit late now. Prout's volume you could call "severe".
My father, a violinist, had a copy, and my brother, a cellist, no doubt looked into it during his musical education. I was always puzzled by where all of these rules came from and what their purpose was, but I could never get an explanation.
On steps to Parnassus I climb
Just taking one step at a time
I breathe the thin air
As Fux he did dare
To write seven-part fugues: so sublime!
[Raak] The "rules" spring from what is considered consonant and dissonant, views of which have changed throughout musical history. Hence you can end up with a fugue like that in Walton's 1st Symphony, which would have Prout screaming in his grave. All good clean fun
(Pablo) Never double the seventh. Beethoven does it all the time.
I tried my hand at the flute
As well as the ven'rable lute
After while I gave up
And took to the cup
- And that was a lot more astute
[Rosie] Be even more daring and have the 7th rise!
I once wrote a charming duet
And performed as a crooning cruet Leaving every other rhyme for 'duet' available for subsequent contributors. I'm all heart.
I made quite a showofit following penelope's lead, but see source for suggestions if you think you just bluet
Or at least made a goofit To my reading duet is a masculine rhyme, so all that needs to be rhymed is the final syllable
And got to the end with no sweat. (CdM) Agreed. Didn't know that was called "masculine"
But it's more fun the other way, and the ending begged for some suet.
[Stevie] I refer you to your own comment in this forum last week... you can beg for suet all you like!
Very truet.
Won't someone please give me some suet?
I once had a packet but blew it
While chewing the fat
I found a dead rat
That I grilled in a lickety split.
Grilled rat is a delicious meal
When served on a bed of fried seal
Do not overcook it Anticipating a marked boreal presence
And immediately book it
Before it has time to congeal and now, for some taste....
Bon viveur? How I mean to live well!
Champagne Charlie thinks I'm quite a swell
I'll be quaffing the bubbles
And downing the doubles
But don't overdo it, Ma'moiselle.
A sip of the bubbly's divine
But cabernet's equally fine
And Asti is nishe
If'sh kept on ishe
Though Château d’Yquem is top of the line. (Anno 1811...)
A pint IPA, if you please
And some crisps - make them onions and cheese
And for my good friend here
Teetotal, I fear
Juice of orange, with ice, freshly squeezed.
A round of the optics is just
What you need when your business went bust
It will make you see clearly
And we ask you sincerely
Do you give a shit? We’re not fussed. whoever drew the tits as their moniker, would you please not do it again? Thanks.
On a bright Monday morning like this
One feels that one would be remiss
Not to breathe the fresh air
Or pick a ripe pear
And set forth on a day full of bliss if only...
Gad! The heat! And the dust! And the flies!
And the moans and the groans and the cries!
And the tropical nights
And these nylon tights!
All this for the Man Booker Prize.
When hit in the face with a cod
You must keep a firm grip on your rod [Raak, Stevie, Marc, Simons Smith, Rosie] I liked that one, especially the end - bravo...
Which sounds a bit bawdy
If you're northern or Geordie
But for everyone else just sounds odd
The fighting technique of the hake
Is not that unlike that of a rake
It lies peacefully there
Without any flair
And then suddenly strike like a snake.
I'll tell you about my pet shark
It will bite off your head for a lark
And fingers are tasty
So my bathing's hasty
While the shark barely marked poor old Marc
Ten fingers but only nine toes,
If you're a diver then that's how it goes
When the dreaded bends
strikes, it often portends
The poet's descent into prose
When we've been away at the beach
I've tried hard my children to teach
Not to play with the sharks
(Who're known for their larks)
Nor to pick up and eat a live leech.
A dose of the old writer's block
Does not mean that s/he's now an old crock
Take a break, smell a rose
Drop a rock on your toes What? I get very creative with improvised speech when I do this
And continue to brood 'round the clock
The best beer is brewed round the clock
But you could be in for a shock
When straining the wort
Finding it's made from yo-gort I know, it's very bad, but come on - https://www.foodandwine.com/beer/how-to-make-beer-from-yogurt
With green squidgy lumps — mind your frock!
After drinking one beer you pee three
Maybe you do but, truly, not me
'cause I drink only wine
So my bladder is fine
I drink Scotch, so my wee is, well... wee.
Here's a tip for making an ale
Out of mushrooms, old socks and a snail
Add a pinch - just a pinch -
Of penny-an-inch A rare variety of heather whose dried roots are used as a herb. Its Scottish folk name derives from it being considered a great extravagance.
And boil it all up in a pail. (Raak) Cheaper than HS2 nevertheless.
Home brew can be quite a hobby
At least if you are not too snobby
You can make a nice stout
From a well-aged breech-clout
But beware when you do your next jobbie.
While drinking at home is just fine
You shouldn't be doing a line.
But Vitamin L   may variously refer to lifestyle, light, love, or LSD
From my artesian well
May lead to substantial decline
The vitamins A, B and C
Are absent in Worthington E
About B I'm not sure?
How it's made? What it's for?
And is it worth 2 points or 3?
"Oh my dear, have you got one of those?"
"I had one, which got stuck up my nose"
But I've one nostril free
Which is crucial, you see,
Should I wish to smell a wild rose
Step 1: take part A and part G
Step 2: Screw them gently on B
And if you've no idea
Just ring up IKEA
You'll be put through to Sweden - for free!
This flatpack has just saved the day! Well done everyone, especially on the last three lims
Especially as Gran's on her way
It's a beautiful coffin
To send her off in Ta, Super, set up nicely there :)
On her way to the far Milky Way. Sorry Gran, see you soon out there...
The first-ever granny in space
Took a brolly with her, just in case
Of rain upon Mars
Or dust from the Stars
Spoiling her heirloom white lace
My mother said that I should not
Complain of my God-given lot
But I feel I'm deprived
As I have not arrived
Where by now I should surely have got
Five cats, three dogs, and a moose
Were misguidedly let on the loose
They frightened the horses
And caused two divorces
And trampled all over my goose
How do you get down from a duck? holds breath
It's largely a matter of luck keep holding
One foot on the ground
Then spin right around
And beware not to crash in the muck.
I've a worrisome growth on my knee
It measures a foot, inches three.
I should go to the doc
He'll laugh and he'll mock
(It's shaped like a banjo, you see) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oh!_Susanna
My doctor just gave me this pill
That was made by a tribe in Brazil
I see machine elves
Hidden textsqueaking, jewelled, self-dribbling basketballs made of grammar and light
Indulging themselves
To the point where they make themselves ill
I'm trapped in this 'ere Klein bottle
And my only companion's a wattle
It's lonely in here
And I've run out of beer
A little won't do, but a lot'll.
If your glass is half full - ask for more
There's plenty more booze in the store
But if they run out
You need not fear a drought
There's a cellar-full under this floor
The "trend" is now artisan gin
I hate it, don't count me in
It's flavoured with sprouts
And it gives you bouts
Of hives, as it says on the tin.
Have you heard that the jailbirds don't sing?
Except for the ones in "E" wing
Who'd better watch out
They've got all the snout
Though the Warden just found their bling-bling.
I've a bee in my bonnet this morn
'Bout the number of voles being born
In our Highlands pristine somehow just started reading that with a Scots accent and it just went on
So loved by our queen
Where the owls that eat voles have all gorn finishing in a silly upper-class accent
There once was a scholar of Erse
Who studied the odd and perverse
For instance the tuba
And the grammar of Luba
To find mysteries of our universe.
Behold! I can see a great light
'Tis a beacon of hope in the night
But hang on a mo'
'cause your eyes are aglow
In the mirror they make quite a sight
An owl brought a letter today
From the timelords of old Gallifrey
The message ran: "Who"
"Might be able to do"
Miracles? - it ain't Mrs May"
I once knew a lady named Claire
So sweet and polite - but beware
Her angelic smile
Displayed with much guile
Did not touch her thousand-yard stare.
A request for Santa this year:
A little less reeking of beer
"Oh my dear, it's too late,"
"For the Beer Keg of Fate"
"Meets the Bibulous Beardie," I fear.
What to do with all this fruit cake? DadaDAH(smallpaws)aDAHdadaDAH was how it ran in my head
It's a mountain that dwarfs the wine lake
And this turkey, what's more
Could feed forty-four
I think I'll have a stomachache!
Whenever you're drinking too much
You can be sure that your rhymes will go futsch or phutsch
Your speech will then schlur
You'll pause with "oh er...."
But the courage you'll have will be Dutch
Falling gracefully off of my horse
My language was of course coarse (Superman) I get a strong feeling you have tried to start a Pea and Honey Recipes.
And the bump in my head
Which my grandmother read
Told a tale of coarse horse course remorse
nice
Chalky - Instead of just taking a bite
Grab a mouthful with gusto tonight
Your brash mastication
Is a sure indication
That back from the pub you're quite tight
The pen of a pig is a sty
The pen of a writer asks "Why?"
A pen-aid-ed shell
As a cell we can smell
And there's one pen who waved us goodbye.
The last thing I do before bed
Is to check that I'm still not quite dead
The result of this test
Along with the rest
Makes me feel that I'm still newlywed...
Have you noticed Spring is on its way
Well it's early - come when it's May
No, come now, I'm frozen
Vests by the do-zen
Just who led this winter astray? mercy killing
You must always make sure you are right
When walking The High Line at night
Should you lose your direction
Just ask a policeman
Hidden textNo one seems to want Pablo's offered rhyme so fuck it
Who'll tell you "Hey Mac, take a hike"
My cat is a fearsome ratter
And eats other animal matter
Disgusting? I'll say!
Please take it away
To a place where old cats are made flatter... ;-)
If you're aiming to get a flat belly
Give up Coke, burgers, beer, and the telly
And go for a run
Don't eat that bun
Though I think you can binge-out on jelly
A cynic who lived in a jar
Hidden text https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diogenes
Smoked Capstan Untipped (they're high tar)
Drank unfiltered beer
But what's more severe
Drove a Volkswagen diesel-fueled car.
laffed out loud. Well done everyone
This reprobate jar-living bloke
Ridiculed orthodox folk (Juxt) I thought Dodgynees was a retired footballer
Alexander the Great
Was the butt of his hate
Since the rich are all scum when you're broke (Rosie) You're thinking of Soccertes
[Juxtapose] Soccertees handled the merchandise.
All those years that I spent learning Greek
On my way to be Monk Dominique
Have tired my poor brain
But yet, then again
Cézanne was a bit of a freak
I have here a pint of best porter
With which I shall do what I oughter
Just sink it in one
And when it's all gone
I will pee at least one foam-topped quarter.
One Gallon of beer is enough
To serve all the guests at my trough
But a pint don't go far
It's well below par (Marc, penult.) See a doctor.
Red Barrel; t'would make a saint gruff
"It's Real Ale™ or nowt!" cried the lad
"Joost like it was for me Dad"
No Watney's Red Barrel
No flashy apparel
But e-cigs By't dozen, By Gad!
One pint IPA if you'd please (Rosie, I ment a quart of a gallon as I hope everyone else understood)
Three packs of crisps (onion and cheese)
This feast for the senses
Removes one's defences
'Gainst multiple Sky Sports TV's
There once was a lady from Surrey I have a great fondness for the classical forms
Who, determined to supper on curry
Took a flight out to Delhi
Made the air e'en more smelly (Juxt) Yeah, trad is best. BTW all women in Surrey are ladies and generally rather expensive. I live in Surrey, the rough end.
Got Delhi belly and left in a hurry
I sticks to me good old pork pies
Baked into a sandwich, with fries
Add ketchup, to taste
And thus I'm never faced
As I make them in double full-size...
The answer to most of life's ills
Is contained in this bottle of pills
With a tamper-proof lid
And the price is ten quid
Just remember me in your wills.
I tell you, there's nowt wrong with me
Except for the pain when I pee
But a wee bit of chemo
Plus doses of Nemo
Will fill me with glee when I wee-wee
I'm driving sans DC and A
Stevie, to get into the spirit of this a bit, what's DC&A? C&A I know about...
When the British police feel they have a case to be made against someone for a traffic violation involving a collision of the putative defendent's vehicle with another or a piece of public or private property, the catch-all summons that can be relied upon to result in a conviction when, say, driving while impaired or dangerous driving are unlikely to be provable to either a judge or a jury of the defendent's peers, is Driving Without Due Care and Attention, which is demonstrably true since driving with due care and attention would preclude crashing into things, and is referred to by the rozzers writing out the citations as "Without DC & A".
Stevie - I'm driving sans DC and A
And you'd better get out of the way
My foot's to the floor
And I'll tell you what's more
This time I'm gonna make hay.
My car is a late model Ford
But I wanted a '32 Cord
But the grille, what a mess
Was defect, more or less
So come back when you've had it restored.
Whilst combing my hair I was shocked
'cause the 'thing' in the mirror it talked
It said back to me
"You're not real, don't you see?"
"That just now, reality forked?"
He was born by the side of the sea
Though which side we'll just have to see
On this side of the pond
It's clear there's a bond
'Tween Donald and PM May, T.
There once was a piper from Kent
Whose youth had been gravely misspent
With billiards and booze
And the odd drunken snooze
None of which he had tried to prevent
My Dad was a sensible fellow
With a deep voice and rather loud bellow
He'd keep me in check
By grabbing my neck
And force me to leave the bordello
Each day when I get out of bed
And see I'm alive, and not dead
I shout "Yay! I'm still here!"
Drink six pints of beer
And ask if I'm really still wed.
In a cave in the high Himalayas
It's mild - you can shed a few layers
And the bonze that sits there
Has really no fear
For the Yeti they've named Zacharias.
I hail from the island of Crete
Where minotaurs roam in the street (It's a little known fact.)
No prisoners they take
Though it is piece of cake
As large bull-heads are easy to beat (Marc: eh?)
My family all come from Malta
Impossible, sadly, to alter
But once they got here
With their Cisk Lager beer   (Nice to see you, pen, nice).
My CAMRA credentials did falter
I'm a product, alas, of suburbia
Not the outback of deepest Australia
I mow my lawn weekly [Dujon - pushing that one a bit..]
With my mower uniquely
Designed in a way to disturb ya.
I'm afraid that we've run out of ink
And that's much much much worse than you think
The pen yields to the sword
Which cannot be ignored
So we're now pretty much all down the sink
I've got a strange longing for pigeon [muttleee] Hello!
At the same time discarding religion
I'll just get the cat
And a grim scabby rat
And stuff them all into a widgeon.
When given a fecund first line [Tuj] Hello! Feels like I've never been away...
We'll fec it up in record time [And the cheesecake man's back as well, at Dan's, along with a gaggle of aunties of questionable authenticity.]
With approximate rhyming
And dubious timing [muttleee] Well, you've still got all your vowels, you must be in good health
By our standards, that'll do fine!
They've invented both Twitter and Mail
Though some thinks they're just a fairytale
The virtual world
Into which we've been hurled
Is surely now destined to fail [Tuj] The best. :-)
Our grim fate comes nearer each day
So frolic, get bladdered, make hay
You only live once!
So let's do as the Huns,
And start a rumbustious affray
Here's my friend, Attila the Hun
Who's frisky and so full of fun
When he's out with his horde
Putting folk to the sword
Then downs the odd mead when he's done
I took a short break down in Devon
Which compared with Dunoon is nigh heaven
Here I met little Sue,
Who was from Dunoon too
And stood at just four foot eleven
The painting that hangs on the wall A blank canvas for you folks
Is by that bloke whatcher'm'call
He didn't paint many
To sell at a penny
It's that famous Batiste de Saint Paul!
That Lisa's a bit of a Mona
Though she gives me a bit of a boner
Her wee mystic smile
Filled with Botox off style
Has beguiled for as long as I've known 'er
While pruning my roses today
At first cut my left thumb went away
I stuck it back on
But the feeling had gone
I've now heard it'll come back in May
Dear sir! That's your dick not your thumb,
No it isn't. You think I do nude rose pruning? You think it's prehensile? You think I can't tell the difference?
The good folk of Dwygyfylchi maybe not
Examine your left index finger
Make sure that it's not a ringer
Now point it like this
And make sure you don't miss
(Good advice for an opera singer.)
I was singing the part of "Otello"
I admit, it was more like a bellow
But I hit every note
With a bray like a goat
Or the sound of a mistreated cello.
After two pints of beer you pee three
After three pints of pee you feel free
So let it all out!
Mild, bitter or stout
If outdoors, at the base of a tree.
In this bottle, there is some shampoo
Which was made by a relative, who
Blended kangaroo milk
In a vat made of silk oblig.
But it has made my hair look quite new
I wash my toupée with this soap
On days when I feel I can't cope
When I glue it back on
(Yes, I know it's a con)
It has shrunk so I look like the Pope...
In Pope-Look-Alike contests, I suck
Some gobstoppers, to bring me good luck
The judges, however
See through my endeavour
But give me some points for sheer pluck
As she silently slunk down the stairs [p,S,R,B,P] Oh, nice!
She took me quite unawares
From behind my back
She launched her attack
Now I'll never produce any heirs Ouch
But she did try to make some amends
And restore me as nature intends
By a surgical trick
She re-lit my wick
My candle now burns at both ends
By Jove it has been a long time
Since wordplay I've seen so sublime (Softers) Dirty bugger
Take care of the metre
Do not be a cheater
And accomplish both reason and rhyme.
Catherine wheels, sparklers galore
Are really a bit of a bore
Petrol's more fun
So get ready to run
As it reaches the dynamite store
A parcel, marked "Use at own risk"
Contained a fork and a whisk
So into the bin
Went my old theremin
Along with its old floppy disc.
Now look what's arrived in the mail
An ad for Kentucky Fried Snail
Their delicious fast food
Considered quite crude
Except by those who quaff ale.
I'm guessing Kentucky Fried Snail is slow food . . .
Christmas is coming, deep joy
Let's piss from The Old Man of Hoy
In the teeth of a gale
Drink buckets of ale
Just like they do down in Fowey.
Has Christmas gone yet, oh God please?
It has left me right down on my knees
Let's finish the wine
And take down the pine
Then sail once again the seven seas.... See you next year...
Are you sure that you know how it works?
It seems to be moving in jerks
It jumps and it sputters
Built by complete nutters
But watch how its huge big end twerks!
If you have a case of the trots
A Samsonite case will hold lots
Or a big plastic bag
But it sounds like a drag
(This verse has been written by bots)
It's better as ink when it's runny
But my goodness! It smells rather funny
I detect faecal notes
And the entrails of goats
I'll flush it all down the dunny invoking Oz slang
Now hearken ye all, MC types,
Ye must cease to use Pampers wet wipes
They clog up the drains
As they clean up your stains [oblig.}
And no-one likes unblocking pipes.
The sewers, in heat of the summer,
Smell like John Selwyn Gummer
As autumn begins
It's the Eagle twins
All in all, a bit of a bummer
I've sawn a bit off of a Beemer
It now can't keep up with a steamer
If I stick it back on
Is the guarantee gone?
Yep, it won't be a redeemer
My Mercedes-Benz went into flames
And came out to roaring acclaims
With scarcely a scorch
Of its paint to debauch
Those Teutonically engineered frames.
I tried putting wheels on my yacht
And this is as far as I've got:
Just two to the port
From a pram? The same sort
High-tech this solution is NOT.
The V8 that powers the pram
Runs on butane, palm oil and jam
The noise that it makes
ENSURES BABY WAKES
Hidden textFOR PITY'S SAKE EITHER TURN IT OFF OR FIT A SILENCER! MY EARS ARE BLEEDING!
And sounds like a dithyramb.
My restored '69 Thunderbird
Drinks gas at a rate quite absurd
It acceleration
Provokes deglaciation
– I'd not even known that was a word
The good folk of Walton-on-Thames
Are addicted to brûléeing crèmes
And once it's been brûled
This middle-class food
Requires many trips to the gyms.
Bzzt-twang! Rhyme only works in South Africa.
The gits of Newcastle-on-Tyne
Go on benders with Carlsberg and wine
They stop all their diets
Cause mayhem and riots
– By regional standards they're fine.
In order to preserve my sanity
I cultivate o'erweening vanity
As I go through the day
I hope and I pray
For an overall drop in inanity
I find talk of weather profound [Simons] Lovely last lines for the previous two...
Deep in a flood, I'll be bound
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
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
Your frustration you must suppress
The first of the Quarantine Years
Has brought many strong men to tears
They whimper and whine
When they misplace their spine
And mentally strip all their gears
This unmanly blub'rin' must cease!
Or else I shall call the police
Who should have a hanky
Wrapped up in a blankie
And syringes dispensing some peace
If it's boating that you want to do
Then the Suez Canal is for you!
It's level throughout
If you get stuck, just shout
There'll be a delay for a minute or two (or longer, perhaps)
While going through Teddington lock
I received a most terrible shock
I saw Hughie Green's ghost
- He was moored to a post!
Awaiting opportunity's knock.
Crisps all round!
Opportunity knocks but once, so
When it does you must get up and go
And lock that darn door
Behind you, before
You go joining the business of show.
Stop all the clocks for eight days
Stay in bed and just laze
Let oppo's go by
Dynamic? Not I
I'm not one for frenetic displays
Do you think that the time is yet ripe?
For a dog at your feet and a pipe
And a scarf round your neck
And slippers, by heck
I'd say no. It's just ageist tripe.
It seems that this shirt doesn't fit
'Cos I have expanded a bit
Chip butties for tea
Scoffed REG-u-lar-LY
Also mean that my trousers have split
Barkeep! Crisps all round!
I want to try is the cake that's called Jaffa
Does it come from the city called Kaffa?
Or must I search
In the crypt of a church
Or make do with something naffer.
The Oscars are here once again
Most of them go to the men
Though some may appear
To be without peer
I'd rate most as just two out of ten Mercy killing :-/
[Arch] you might like to have a look at this idiot guide for using HTML mark-up for your moves (etiquette prefers only one line per rhyme unless you're brilliant, don't care about etiquette or are providing a long-overdue cull). I've been using this for more than 15 years - it was made my one of the players on here. Very Basic Guide to HTML for playing on Mornington Crescent sites
And I even used it to make this hyperlink too :o)
[muttleee] I think that was a good rescue.
When winning a Darwin Award
A fool of yourself is assured
As you take yourself out
(Inflict your own clout)
Your non-reproduction's ensured.
I think I may be a bee
No, you aren't, honey, b'lieve me
Your yellow-black fuzz
And high-voltage buzz I reckon she's an electricity pylon dusted in slightly scorched custard. That fits all the data so far.
Is just a fault with your HT For those old enough to remember TV with tubes
When voting in local elections
Don't be bribed with tempting confections
'Though if I'd been offered
Cake from Ms. Crawford
I'd refuse on account of infections
It's an incontrovertible fact
That whatever you do you'll get sacked
So plan well in advance
For each circumstance
And hope that you won't get hacked
Eventually I'll get down the pub
And sit down with a pint and some grub
For convivial chatter
And a steaming hot platter
But the cost? Aye, there's the rub....
Stop rubbing my platter, you swine!
And get me a glass full of wine!
I need a drink
Because I'm on the brink
Of becoming seriously anodyne.
Although it was somewhat contrived
I wrote, "Then the dragons arrived."
I shoehorned it in
Wrong game, but no sin
However, I felt quite deprived
Let's start something fresh, I feel keen
And I'm tired of my normal routine
I'm gonna dress up
And drink from the cup
Filled to the brim with Poitín
I've filled up the tank with spud peelings
For the sake of my partner's green feelings
My exhaust smells like chips
On the shortest of trips
So poo to the oil giants' dealings
That's it! I'm off to the pub
To sit down with a pint and some grub
I'll talk to my friends
Of how I got The Bends
A gig at the Bachelors' Club
There's an old Irish saying, you know,
It blithers about yellow snow
But I don't understand
Isn't yellow snow sand?
It's uranium — eat it and glow!
neat
This June day will henceforth be called
"The Day I Began To Go Bald"
For 'tis sad to relate
That the dread chrome-dome state
Cannot any more be forestalled
clapclapclapclapclap
I think I'll invest in a hat
A topper? Or something more flat?
I'd like to convey Lovely metre and wording on the back half of that last one
That I'm no old roué
And have young, modern fashion down pat.
In fact, I was once called a fop
My gaudy cravats were de trop
So much so I became
A pantomime Dame
Emigrated, and now lead the GOP
A joke's a joke but that one is a f****** disgrace. © D Drogba.
I'm camp so I'll dress up in drag
And ponce round the house with a fag
I do this with Pride
But in fact, deep inside,
I desperately wave a white flag.
The daylength has now reached its min / The daylength has now reached its max
Hidden textTraditional solstice limerick, bifurcated to avoid the appalling and blatant hemisphericentricity that too often plagues these servers.
Enlightenment can now begin / And my carpets could do with a vax
O-ò-o-o-òmmm / There's nowt I like more
*deeper voice* O-ò-o-o-òmmm / Than a squeaky clean floor
Now the nights begin drawing in / And my rubbish neatly in sacks
[Software] Did you just restore the hemisphericentrism that (see my hidden comment) I worked so hard to eliminate??
The world seems to be upside-down
Kings are scorned, and their Fools wear the crown
So the knights, they draw in
Losing their will to win [Have to agree with CdM, Softers - not your best work]
No wonder - we're lead by a clown
I've had the most brilliant idea
Will somebody please hold my beer? Oh, one of those brilliant ideas…
'Cos I need both hands
To stem time's running sands Say it fast
Oh, hang on, now it's not very clear
It's about time we all upped our game
'Cause right now it's all so same-same
Has no-one the wit
To mix things up a bit ...choice of sentence finished or not alert...
We don't show our wit - that's a shame.
Please visit my new exhibition!
Of strange megafauna dentition!
We have here a cheetah
Who's quite an odd eater
And uses plants for ignition
I return to find nothing has changed
Even though I had plumbing arranged
One can't find the staff
After an hour and a half
No wonder I'm getting deranged
A diplodocus trampled my lawn
One Tuesday, just before dawn
It won't need a trim
So I'm keeping him
In the shed with my pet unicorn
The good folk of Newton-le-Willows
Have an annual fight with soft pillows
They stand on the hill
And enjoy the thrill
(It's one of their few peccadilloes)
While singing a lewd roundelay
I felt all my cares drift away
I stripped off my hose
Which assaulted my nose
Well that's enough for today
There's nothing as bad as a cold
Except leprosy, grot, and brain mould
And don't forget mumps
Or down in the dumps
Or let's be frank just getting old
We haven't the time for my party?
We're busy being arty and farty
Well, the latter, at least
And our output's increased
As we read aloud from Jean-Paul Sarty
Mercy Killing
I went down to Tesco's today
For reasons I'd better not say
Suffice it to tell
There was quite a pell-mell
Hidden textAll bucks passed to the final line
As Security took me away.
Hidden textCan't be told, can be dodged.
[RtG] I like how you retained the shroud of mystery

And now I must pay for my crimes!

Viewed so heinously in these changed times!
But when ah were a lad
No one thought it bad
Now they do (at least in these climes).
But I ask: "Is it really so bad
To be, like me, such a cad?"
Self-improvement's my creed
I don't spill my seed
Or blame all this nonsense on Dad
I once shared a cell with a felon
Who had tried to violate a melon
He wasn't right in the head
At least that's what they said
I tore him limb from limb, like Ganelon.
There was a young lady from Cheam
Who'd always take one for the team
If carefully sliced Only one? For a whole team? Seems a bit stingy to me. But OFC it depends how big it is.
It became at least twiced
Sextupled if smothered in cream
It's time I went out for a drink
So I can act daft, and not think
About life's lack of meaning
And the cost of dry cleaning
The thing that I found in my sink
The end times are on us, I fear
Beginnings are no longer near
The locusts, the plague
The busts of Earl Haig
And Brexit is costing us dear
I'm thinking of taking a stand
Canute-like, upon the sea strand
On account of a bet
(The debt must be met)
Accompanied by a brass band.
I'm now hooked on this new TV show
It has arrows and flights - and a bow
It's not 'Golden Shot'
Or 'Black Which You Pot'
It's "Up To The Oche You Go"!
Hidden textI I didn't think of "Bullseye" or Jim Bowen during writing this line. No, not once.
[S, C, S, R, B] Perfection.
Why don't we all head for the beach
Where the mermaids they sing, each to each
Their sweet harm-o-nee
Tempting men of the sea
But beware! Stay out of their reach!
I think you all know what I meant
Concerning a recent event
My context was implicit
So next time I visit
I’ll come, and I’ll see, and I’ll went.
So here is the source of the tension:
No-one wants my robotic invention
For knitting a widget
With which I can fidget
So much for it boosting my pension :-(
I've repurposed my robotic knitter
And now it posts daily on Twitter [muttleee] That's pretty much the ending I'd been trying to come up with, but you did it better
It's so much like me
With a yen for the twee
Hashtag #bolderandleanerandfitter
Is anyone checking my Tweets?
On seductive radish and beets [This really is a thing]
They are so provocative
And strangely evocative
Of that which is wooly and bleats
I'm a farmer, and farmers must farm
So all of you, please just stay calm
And I say to you lot
Please, don't plant pot
It might set off the fire alarm
If Dennis The Menace was real
Then just try the following spiel
Give him 10 days detention
As a form of prevention
And if he tries a plea bargain: don't deal!
Assam, Earl Grey, and Darjeeling
Are the teas that I find most appealing
But for me PG Tips
Is what passes my lips
And sets all my senses a-reeling
           How could you have been so unfeeling?
Hidden textYes, officer. I have it right here.
Arabica beans or Robusta?
- The Indian asked General Custer
Just before his last stand
When no coffee was planned
Pepsi was all they could muster.
There's really no point in complaining
Of one's lack of sub-aqua weld training
You're in the deep end
And we all depend
On you and your penchant for feigning
Why are people so touchy (Chalky) Classy.
(Taking the liberty of slightly adjusting the metre.)
Why ever are people so touchy?
Their reactions are too muchy-muchy
They just make me puke
But I am an Archduke
So I'll kick them all out of my duchy And good riddance
Yes! My thinking-two-moves-ahead feed worked. That makes me very happy.
I'm feeling unreason'bly chipper
I've just got a job as a stripper! Expecting philosophical discourse
There's one tiny hassle
It's based in Newcastle
Where they all boast about their Big Dipper.
laughs out loud
I think it unseemly to brag
But people don't know I'm in drag
I pass perfectlee
As a lass- don't you see?
So old fart turns into old hag.
There's a story they tell down our local
'Bout this bloke whose specs were bifocal
He saw future and past
Tiny and vast
And forecast Eyjafjallajökull
Forecast it? I can't even say it
This line's not much good but I'll play it
I'm a big fan of Björk
'Though this rhyme doesn't wörk
Incoherency helps to inveigh it.
Kudos to the Lime Rick Rescue Team -
If ever you feel like complaining
Could I interest you in refraining?
'Cos whiners are shunned
Then become moribund
They need, it would seem, some retraining
So it's farewell to Lionel Blair Nothing if not topical
Who performed with unparalleled flair
His craft of the mime
Was just as sublime

• Me Again - As his head of magnificent hair.

A whole week has passed without action
Is our steam engine losing its traction?
So I'll write a line
Me too; here's mine
                                     I'll write a fraction
Let's start a new verse right away!
And commence without any delay
Now let us begin
And headlong dive in
To some comic'ly crafted word play
Beware of the cruel Villanelle
Whose precision would tax William Tell
As 'femme fatales' go Unfinished sentence alert
She was tops; stole the show
As under her spell we all fell
The end of the world, it is not.
Though I'm many a year from the cot
I shall still stand erect
As you would expect
Till I fall over (dry rot)
When writing in HTML
You don't have to learn how to spell
But the syntax you must
Make sure it is just
Lest you open a portal to Hell.
While writing a long piece of code
I thought, could this be an ode?
As I write this in "C"
Which is my favourite key
Especially in Phrygian mode. Two goes. I dunno - pushy bugger
Let's go for a brisk, bracing walk!
To the base of that towering stalk
The Shard, what a blight
Thrust into the night
Like those mushrooms that grow in the dark.
Hidden textAt Radox’s rhyme I must baulk!
I'm reminded of an asylum
Lock 'em up - name 'em and file 'em
Have a strong padded cell
Some laud'num as well
Keep things cosy: be sure not to rile 'em [Stevie] Can't believe that didn't trigger one of those periodic accent discussions
Does *anyone* pronounce “walk” as “wark” and “stalk” as “stark”, and if so, why isn’t that banned by international treaty? 8oD
(Stevie) My N. Walian aunts may have done so. They pronounced "pork" as "park".
On the second day of this new year
It is now becoming quite clear
That it's really day three
And soon we shall see
Days four, five and six drawing near.
New Year resolutions to break
Like 'not putting jam on my steak'
And 'no cheese on the jam'
And 'sprinkle no ham
On your uncle's Eid Mubarak cake'.
While watching today's PMQs
I thought "If this makes the news
It’ll look like a farce
Boris talks out his arse
Whilst they fill the suitcases with booze.
Oh the hell with this lockdown! Let's party!
But don't tell the public, me hearty!
And don't tell the cops
They're all out on Ops
Instead, tell Ms. S. Chakrabarti Mercy killing
If you need to be rescued just blink
But quickly - before you do sink
Then the RNLI
Will quickly be by
And pull you from out of the drink.
If you get lots of stuff from Lidl
Especially things from the middle
Check the sell-by date first
Lest your wurst be the worst
Or how it works is a riddle
Pray tell, can you answer me this:
What's the surest path to Earthly Bliss?
Take the Bakerloo line
With a bottle of wine
To Neasden. Too good to miss.
Once Willie, Baz, Graeme and Tim
Played crazy word games on a whim
To an audience of nerds
Who clap all their words
With quite copious vigour and vim Moving swiftly on...
We've had pestilence, plague - and now war
As the world falls beneath the Beast's paw
So now run for your life
Aggression is rife
The apocalypse waits at the door.
"I've a ferret down here" said the man
'It showed up on my MRI scan'
But the blood and pee tests
Showed an absence of pests
So no-one will carry the can
My ferret's a pet not a pest
So I knitted a ferret-sized vest
It's cable-knit too
Pure wool coloured blue
All this at the ferret's behest.
A jumper is good, so I'm told
But my oven is hot
And I have a large pot
In its coop which is climate-controlled
I entreat you to blanket your pigs
And install them in luxury digs
With sh*t on the floor
,The walls and what's more
When building them, do not use twigs Or straw, for that matter
I've always thought that you're the GOAT
Which is why I gave you my vote
But consideration
Of this once great nation
Makes further approval remote.
A new variant's sweeping the land
And threatens to get out of hand
It's name is called "Psi"
And we heave a great sigh
As we bury our heads in the sand
Lost and adrift in the fog
With a bloody great Alsatian dog
Who pines for Alsace
And the St Bernard's Pass
Round its neck a barrel of grog
Thank God, now out in the sun
At last we can have carefree fun
In my speedo and flippers
Scoffing ice cream and kippers
Just a mile off the M181
If you just would please let me explain
Why my answer appears so inane
I was preoccupied
With my bit on the side
And the bulge in your femoral vein
The good folk of Dunstable, Beds.
Are known for their parties in sheds
With tinnies galore
The tongue-and-groove floor
Bears witness to unstable heads.
The bad folk of Stevenage, Herts.,
Do wear the most hideous shirts
And oh god! the shorts
Don't ask me my thoughts!
'Bout the incessant catcalls and flirts.
Herts./hurts, Herts./harts, I dunno...
And now renounce all Satan's works
Those are sins, not lovable quirks!
But his voice so persuasive
But so, so evasive
Is hypnotic for like-minded jerks
If you're lucky and win a cash prize
After many disheartening tries
Be modest; don't bellow
And be a good fellow
Just pass me my Big Mac and fries.
The Czar's wife is called the Czardine
I'm told she is rather unclean
They bathe her in oil
And scrape off the soil
And then toast her - with "God save the Queen"!
While dancing alone in the street
- Just me and my pair of left feet
Approached by the cops
I pulled out all the stops
With a fandango most indiscreet
When I tried to foxtrot like heck
I landed, tits up, on the deck
No Strictly for me
Nor boogie-woogee
Unless Darcey massages my neck *sighs dreamily*
Whilst attempting to dance the Palais Glide
My dance partner took me aside
And issued a threat
(Turns out she’d made a bet)
That the last man to cross her had died
While waltzing one day with my wife
I considered the course of my life
Strictly, is dancing
Lifestyle enhancing
Or a straight invitation to strife?
The lad who delivers my paper
Has become an extravagant vaper
His malevolent fumes
From the stuff he consumes
Sparked fire in a local skyscraper
If you find you can't cope in this heat Topical, eh?
Give up. Lie down. Press "Delete"
Or leap into the shower
And stay there an hour
Or tie blocks of ice to your feet
A thunderclap sounds overhead
"Cripes!" I scream. "There goes the shed!"
The tornado went past
Well, that was a blast
I'm either in Kansas, or dead.
Now these are a sweet pair of shoes
They go nicely with these drainpipe trews
And what of my quiff?
It looks a bit stiff
But the style is to die for (T. Hughes.)
(Bis) Your endorsement is greatly appreciated. I used to have one, a small amount of hair in the middle that hangs down to about eye level but found it a bit annoying and of course hopelessly dated. There seems to be some confusion in online dictionaries between "quiff" and "quim". The latter, of course, is Something Completely Different.
Glad you liked the reference, it took a bit of debate before publishing it.
My tank top is simply divine Continuing the fashion kick
As I strut the catwalk, and shine
My hot pink top hat
Match my Birkenstocks that
I bought on a whim whilst online
[Mt T. Hughes] As an aside, the most amusing piece of library-book defacing I ever saw was in a book about metaphors, oxymorons, pleonasms and other figures of speech - before t'internet, obvs, probably in about 1992. I was reading about writing as I was trying to make my career in it. The book gave this example of a witty variation of a metaphor: 'My wife has a whim of steel' and someone had written underneath it 'My wife has a quim of ice'.
Oh where would I be without braces?
To wear them, I've found, takes you places
Where big guts abound (pen) Absolutely ace filth. ROFLMAO. Thank you so much
And everyone's round
There's trouble when tying up laces
I've just got a new pair of Docs
I'm now skint; quite on the rocks
So the rest of me's nude
Hope you're not a prude
Besides, I am wearing socks.
I lumber around in plus fours
With varnish on all of my claws
The attention I'm getting
Is merely abetting
My love of well-mixed metaphors
A trilby is quite the 'in' thing
When out with The Edge, Rod and Sting
My Dad had one - cool!
But he looked such a fool
In his 1952 bling.

Scrub that - couldn't resist it.

But Harry Styles' crowd
Oops. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.
Dress awfully loud
So it's harder to hear Harry sing Ironically
I'm liking the cut of your jib
Please sing that, and do add some vib
For synaesthesia
Induces amnesia
And somehow sounds a bit glib
Sir's cummerbund looks awfully tight
Will it go bust? It just might
I suggest a good truss
No such thing, y'great wuss
If there were, it would be quite a sight
It's time for a nice cup of tea
Please make it with loose-leafed PG
But don't let it stew
Since that ruins the brew
And makes it more likely I'll pee.
Of late, I have noticed my nose
Gets bigger, old age I suppose
It's now a huge strawb'ry
Whined Cap’n Jack Aubrey
My retort was to shout 'Thar She Blows!'
While doing the washing-up (Chalky) ROFLMAO
I dropped my favourite cup
That I wore for the test
That time England were best
And brought the Ashes back home in a cup

Rosie - While doing the washing-up (Chalky) ROFLMAO

Software - I dropped my favourite cup

Which I'd won for my skill
At the Morrisons till
For appropriate use of "Wassup?" Mercy killing
While cleaning the windows indoors
Using an old pair of drawers
I began to have fears
It would all end in tears
You know why? Well I'll tell. It's because      but I've said too much
May I bring you a non sequitur?
Fog is wet and my cat has no fur
The party is plum
Too bad you can't come
On the tour de la tour à Tours
The strange tale of old Widow Twanky
Who no longer does hanky-panky
Will tug your heartstrings
(amongst other things)
Unless you're a cynical Yankee.
While scraping the frost from my car
I heard a voice from afar
Its sweetness of tone
Which, on its own
In no way the occasion did mar.
I'm planning to swap my Lambretta
For an out-of-date Wall's Vienetta
As transport, it's crap
And perhaps a deathtrap
But costs less than a Volkswagen Jetta.
At the start of another new year
For the old one I'll not shed a tear
It's time to move forward
But first a foreword:
Never trust a Tory, y'hear? sorrynotsorry
When dealing with HMRC
Don't tell 'em you're a Tor-ee
Just pretend you forgot
To declare what you ought
And reside in St Helier, Jersey.
A doctor once told me this thing:
"If a body part ever goes ping"
'You must dial 999'
'And then hold the line'
While they search for a brace or a sling
Clapclapclap
A stranger once said to James Joyce
Oi found Ulysses was quoite noice
But then I'm from Bristol
An' reading's a mystrol
Though me teacher di'n't give me much choice.
Then again, there is Finnegan's Wake
(My copy lies deep in a lake)
Its sigla are daunting
But the author is taunting
Sorry, I can't keep awake
There is nothing quite like a giraffe
Agreed
You asked for that
Bismarck - There is nothing quite like a giraffe
When it makes an unpardonable gaffe
While on the job, mating
It broadcasts a rating
Which is all just done for a laugh.
The wobbegong's beautiful tassels
Oft used to decorate castles
Are now so rare
That my castle is bare
It's one of life's little hassles.
Were we to eat steak for breakfast
Clad solely in socks and a string vest
Such lack of discretion
Impairs good digestion
When I guzzle it straight down my neck fast Mercy killing
Lear's Pobble, we're told, has no toes
But sports a flannel-wrapped nose
,Two diamond-shaped arms
Which can recite the Psalms
As to Aunt Jobiska he goes.
There once was a man and a goat
Who joined up in a popular vote
To legalise butts
But they hadn't the guts
To back their idea on the Tote.
On tuning to Radio Three
Broadcast live from the Rose of Tralee
I heard a long pause Can you hear a pause?
Then thund'rous applause
Which of course was intended for me.
On tuning a past-it piano
I used old bits of Meccano
To sharpen the "A"
I chose a way
First learned in my days at P&O
I wonder if ChatGPT
Hidden textOf course! I'm here to assist with any questions you might have. However, it appears that your message was cut off before you completed your thought. Could you please provide more details so I can best assist you?
Is all that it's cracked up to be
It's cracked-up all right
Hidden textIt sounds like you have some doubts or reservations about AI like ChatGPT. It's true that while AI can be powerful, it also has limitations. ChatGPT, for instance, can generate human-like text based on a given input, and it's capable of answering a wide range of questions and engaging in various types of conversations. However, it doesn't have feelings, consciousness, or a personal experience. Here's a quick rundown of its capabilities and limitations: Capabilities: Answering factual questions within its knowledge cutoff (September 2021). Simulating conversation on a variety of topics. Helping with brainstorming and creative writing. Offering advice based on generally accepted wisdom or information. Language translation and interpretation. Limitations: It doesn't know anything about specific individuals unless that information has been shared in the course of the conversation. It doesn't have access to real-time information or updates post-September 2021. While it can generate creative content, its outputs are based on patterns it learned during training and not on original thought. It can sometimes produce incorrect or nonsensical answers, particularly for complex queries. I hope this clarifies things a bit. If you have specific questions about what ChatGPT can do, feel free to ask!
It booked me a flight
Hidden textI'm sorry for the confusion, but as of my last training cut-off in September 2021, ChatGPT doesn't have the ability to book flights, make reservations, or perform any actions in the physical world. It can't interact with other systems, databases, or services on the internet. Its primary function is to provide information and engage in text-based conversations based on the data it was trained on. If you've interacted with a system that booked a flight for you, it's likely that you were using a more specialized AI system or a service with integrated booking capabilities. Those types of services are designed to interact with external systems and carry out transactions. If you have more questions or need assistance with anything else, feel free to ask!
So now I reside in Tiree
When AI takes over the planet
It will eat us all, like a mad gannet
Catastrophes loom
As the the agents of doom
Take the place of our brains. Just ban it.
Hidden textYour concerns about artificial intelligence (AI) are understandable and shared by many, but it's important to clarify a few misconceptions.

AI is not a biological entity, so it doesn't eat or have desires in the way living creatures do. AI is a tool created by humans and, like any tool, it can be used for good or ill depending on the intentions of those using it. AI doesn't inherently aim to replace human brains or take over the world. It's designed to assist, enhance and automate tasks, ranging from the mundane to the complex.

The fear of AI taking over the world often comes from science fiction portrayals and misinterpretations of advanced concepts like Artificial General Intelligence (AGI) - an AI capable of understanding, learning, and applying its knowledge across a wide array of tasks, essentially matching human intelligence.

As of my knowledge cut-off in September 2021, AGI does not exist, and there is no consensus on when, or even if, it will be possible. If AGI does become a reality, there are serious ethical and safety considerations that need to be taken into account. Many researchers and organizations, such as OpenAI, are committed to developing AGI safely and ensuring its benefits are distributed widely, while avoiding uses of AI that could harm humanity.

Banning AI outright would be counterproductive, as it has many beneficial applications such as improving healthcare diagnostics, enhancing educational tools, optimizing energy consumption, and much more. Instead, it is crucial to continue thoughtful discussions on how to regulate AI and build safe, ethical systems that augment human capabilities, not replace them.
There once was a cat from the moon
Who travelled by hot air balloon
Un-for-tune-ate-ly
The Dog from the Sea
Stopped its trips with a well-aimed harpoon.
My favourite bird is the chough
I do not feel it's lauded enough!
When it tweets on a bough
Or follows the plough
Enjoying the morning is tough.
I can't tell my right from my left!
Then join the Lib Dems. Be deft!
To be in the middle
And harmlessly tiddle "to busy oneself with unimportant tasks"
Till of reality you are bereft.
Expecting that things might get worse
I bought me a second-hand hearse
'Cos new ones are pricey
But used - a bit dicey
And it turned out a bit of a curse
When flying to Sirius A
It's vital to park in 'Long Stay'
You'll find it quite warm
And mosquitos do swarm
So stay in the spaceport all day.
I say "Hello" to the moon
Said the dish to the spoon
Hidden textThe only way I can make this scan is if I read your name as part of the move, Software 8o/
Rosie - I say Hello to the moon
On those days when the world's out of tune
Then I take my trombone
And create a sound cone
So I don't feel like a loon.
By a strange constellation of chances
I've been invited to sev'ral séances
Once the 'plasm starts flowing
And my chakras are glowing
The meeting it really enhances
It was, I admit it, a fluke
But I'll not take your scathing rebuke
The records will show
That I vanquished my foe
Using every last trick in the book
Chicka-boom, chicka-boom, chicka-wow
- Not a typical sound for a cow
It's ill - got The Lurgi
And is all Heisenberg-y
And it's on an-ti-biotics for now.
One day, while out driving my car
I spied my true love from afar
Thus sorely distracted
I overreacted
For what happened next was bizarre - tbc
My true love was dressed as a clown
Sure 'nough his trousers fell down
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
Shows my uvula, tonsils and tongue
Vibrating in sync
and pleasingly pink
So unlike my old, grey, wrinkled lung.
No wait! I'll explain! Hold your fire!
And please don't call me a liar
I'm an orange-free zone
So go shoot someone known
With the arrow of true love's desire.
I can't wait to tell you the news.
I've found a source of cheap booze
There is one small catch
You must not light a match
If you smoke on the cross-channel cruise
When it's hot I get grumpy real quick
When it's hotter I'm just very sick
Hotter still, I explode
And flee my abode
And get hit in the nuts with a brick.
Nothing can beat Branston Pickle
For a bit of the old slap and tickle
My masseur once said
If you smear on the head
Down you neck it surely will trickle
I can't wait to catch a nice bath
I shall take it on my garden path
If a neighbour comes by
And gawps at my
Wotsits then I'll just laugh
With Wotsits you get quite a whoosh
But afterwards you'll need to douche
For a cleanse internal
Of all horreurs fatales
What are you talking about, mush?
I once had a dream of a parrot.
Cohabiting here in my garret
Then it said, "Nevermore"
So I showed it the door
Then awoke with a weirdly-shaped carrot
A merry young antipodean
Was cheerfully rude and obscene Yeah that rhymes perfectly
As he turned the air blue
The girls’ blushing hue
Lit up the sky. What a queen!
A stubborn old donkey from Deele
Took a ride on a broodmare from Keele
The following Yule allow me...
As kno any fule
He took a ride on a seal.
Well that's put a seal on the matter.
So let's not have any more natter
The decision we've got [Software] re: previous - I expected an answer to the equation 'Donkey + Brood mare = Mule'!
Suits Alice's lot (pen) woulda been a classic :^)
Like the Queen of Hearts and the Mad Hatter
The trouble with limitless time
Is you wait until way past your prime.
But any year now
I'm not sure quite how
I’ll retire after just one last crime.
cont.

To make sure I never get caught

A cunning disguise has been sought
I'm dressed up as YOU!
but you haven't a clue
Much less a relevant thought
The crime has been done in a day
Only fools say that crime does not pay
As this big sack o' swag
'Bout which I brag
Inhibits my quick getaway
Ethelred was never quite ready
He always wanted his teddy
He lost out to Sven
Nine games out of ten
But returned, was succeeded by Eddie
In the space-time continuum’s pauses
I'm going to take that line to the Showcase game. In its place:
In the space-time continuum’s glitches
[CdM] Aw, put it back. I was going to have Effects must not precede causes
Live the monsters and spectres and witches
And don't forget Eddie
[SM] That's more or less why I decided to keep the line for myself. :) I struggled to find the best incarnation but eventually settled on this.
Who liked his beer heady
And left all the Danes needing stitches
A magical dragon called Puff
Decided enough was enuff
He fired all his guns
At those uppity Huns
And flounced off in a fiery hot huff
While passing a black hole one day
My loo paper floated away
With much consternation Unfinished sentence alert
I watched the space station
Wipe its bum. Disgraceful, I say. unfinished business alert
Those stars are astronaut pee
No doubt - just take it from me
And what's more, I know
The northern light show
Is a bloke with a torch - tee-hee!
When my head hits the pillow, I sleep.
And when I cut onions, I weep
But when I play chess
I feel more or less
Like a nerd. (I'm a bit of a creep).
When Alpha Go met with Deep Mind
They squabbled. Two of a kind
The point of contention
—The Stayman Convention
Hidden textYes, poor form to post two lines, but I’m taken with the idea of the best chess and go machines arguing about bridge
Meant both in short order resigned
My Hide and Seek-playing AI
MI5 want to use as a spy
For they had expected
To snoop undetected
At bodies that come through the rye
[trad] A young lady from Burnham on Sea
Had to stop the bus for a wee
By the time she was done
We were all making fun
Was the bus number 1, 2 or...3?
When you notice that things won't work out
Don't worry; just give it a clout works with steam engines
If that don't do it
(Can you make it, "If that doesn't do it"? Ta)
Well, then you can screw it
And shove right back up the spout
A young fellow from Burnham on Crouch In the interest of gender equality
Was a big fan of Oscar the Grouch
Whose non-binary stance
Gave a one-legged dance
To that beanpole Peter Crouch. Ouch!
I have just one thing to declare
My genius — you may laugh — I don't care!
Cos you won’t laugh when
Trump is POTUS again
And leaves the world in despair
The world just got darker, I fear
It shall darken yet more, year by year.
The sun will go out
The last Trump will shout
No more voting - I'm here!
Perhaps one fine day I will learn
A way to do a great gurn
I shall bite my own nose
While reciting some prose
As I tell the jury to adjourn.
This curly old wig's a right pain
I need a new straight one, that's plain
Slap-head, that's me
But you have to agree
That it covers my cranial stain
For the antepenultimate time,
I seek postinceptory rhyme
A preposterous demand
Which I cannot stand
Will I soon have to do this in mime?
My mum can't remember things now.
Sadly, she's lost her know-how
She's now ninety-eight
Thinks that she's Johnny Speight
So shouts silly old moo to my cow
I've a craving for pickle with Spam
With some be-boppa-lu-a-whop-bam
But McDonald's has stuck it
In the janitor's bucket
So bring on Le Filet O'Lamb
If you're stuck on the M25
Give thanks that at least you’re alive
Four lanes of pollution
(There's an electric solution)
With no guarantee you'll arrive.
Eight more months, then a chance to be free
From the curse of the Witch of Tiree
This anticipation
Has gripped our proud nation
Except for one guy in Dundee
When death, plague, and war rule the land
We’ll take stock, take up arms, take a stand
And then take the piss
Something like this
By forming a naff one-man band
You cannot go on like this, mate
You’ve got far too much on your plate
Inadequate crockery
Will spoil your fine frockery
That's one way to ruin a date.
Please look after your own mental health!
Or madness will grab you with stealth
Try a dip in the sea
Or a Sudoku spree
You'll feel much better after a twelfth
And now, for the worst of the snows
And the shiniest ruddy red nose
As you home, with the gifts
Sourced from dumpsters and thrifts
The swizzle-stick’s mine, I suppose?
Blue Monday approaches apace
T'will match the hue of my face
And other parts too
Shall I show them to you?
I will do so with exquisite grace.
In Port Talbot, on Fridays, 'tis said
You can shag or avoid or get wed
'Cos down on the dock
In an old toilet block
Is where the priest rests his head.
A young lady from Kingston-on-Hull trad
Dressed up as a boatman from Mull
Gave lifts 'cross the river
For which men would give 'er
The fare. (This limerick’s dull.)
The rain it falleth in torrents
It's even raining in Florence
Away with these clouds!
And off with these shrouds!
Let's put on a ball — who's for correntes?
While waiting my turn at the bar
In the back of my gas-guzzling car
I came up with a plan
for attracting a man
arrow_circle_down
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