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The Obligatory Limericks Game
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When the Crescenters arrive at Rab...
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Start nibbling his arse
With hindsight they'd've run if they could. [a bit dull sorry - anything to get things moving again ...]
The cause of this sorry affair
So foul that I do not dare
To mention the fact
I have nada for tact
So I'll tell the whole world, I don't care
I've managed, without interference,
Ahem
I've managed, without interference,
To alter my husband's appearance
He's now eight feet tall
But has only one ball sorrysorrysorry
And that needs a sixteen-inch clearance - oooh - what a monster I've created
For those with testicular gigantism . . . there ought to be a few rhymes, and if not, well, bollocks.
(Barring the mono or double schism) Mmmm, yes, that could work, subject to the scansion police
It's wise, I suspect, throwing caution to the wind...
To join the new sect
Baptised by immersion in... (No, I can't bring myself to type it.)
It takes just a moment to find [Raak] admirable restraint, sir,
That an orange tastes better "sans rind";
But if you chew the pips
Take this wisest of tips Pompous, moi?
- just don't take the pith: 'tis unkind.
A river of buttons doth flow
To a land where the cuffs dare not go - I smell realism here...
Lest they cover my watch (Projoy) You're mad. :-)
(An extravagant Swatch™)
Where they've all come from, I don't know
There was a young chap from Slovakia
Whose verse, beside ours, was much tackia
His scansion was iffy
His rhyme scheme was whiffy
Alas, uncorrected aphakia!
A seagull is fond of a beer
Until it succumbs to the fear
That one day its liver (Jux) Just going to look that up.
Will be cut as a sliver
Of coal, when the long winter gets here.
The nights are approaching their longest
The werewolves are reaching their strongest
The ghosts and the ghoulies
And Syd Rumpo's moulies
Play host to God, who is the wrong guest. - a bit clunking, sorry. That was a difficult one.
My celibate friend - here's a tip:
Use a lock to secure your fly zip
This sec-urity
I'm sure you'll agree
Will keep you safe when you let rip
If a zip-lock should fail to prevail (continuing the excellent advice...)
We'll all find out if you're male
But if you're a lass
You should go to mass
And cover your sins with a veil
For celibacy, give three cheers!
I'll not bonk for the rest of my years
That's the end of my knockin'
The bed will stop rockin'
As the eve of my life swiftly nears
While waiting for lights to turn green
I've acquired a malaise in my spleen
At red-amber I felt
My testicles melt
So please do not ask if I've "been"
I've "been" and I'm now "feeling lighter" This is disgraceful stuff. Terrible.
Yet my pants strangely seem a bit tighter
And strangely much wetter [Chalky] How do you know about testicles?
As my bits they do fetter
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