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The Obligatory Limericks Game Reincarnated
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And so it begins....
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“—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
Although really, it did go too far
In the forests of far Khalahand
I tuned up my old baby grand
And gave them some Liszt
As the bushmasters hissed
We're thinking of forming a band
So we'll go no more roving, it seems      Thanks, Rab
Brexit has clipp-ed our wings
My passport's expired
And I'm ever so tired
But at least we can still feel like kings
It took me aback and away
When a bright, happy sun rose today
Will things improve
Or will nature remove
What it's given, as is nature's way?
There was an old man from West Ealing trad
Whose todger got stuck to the ceiling trad
He reached for his chisel mad
which loosened the pizzle
And now it's replastered, it's healing
(apologies but the lines appeared fully-formed to me in blazing letters on my trousers)
I suppose now it's time to contrive
(as we wait for the cops to arrive) [Projoy] The muse strikes in mysterious and flammable ways... good stuff...
A sound alibi
As we fail to comply
With the Online Safety Act's drive.
This Limerick's not what it seems...
For the online safety act deems
Want to play? Online Crescenteering lives on at Discord