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The Obligatory Limericks Game
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When the Crescenters arrive at Rab...
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The watchmaker's son was too late
And therefore he missed his first date[pen et al] my ‘drawing’ was supposed to resemble a man with wide opened eyes watching the Women’s final of the tennis game the other day and not a pair of tits as your imagination may have fooled you to believe. Have a nice day! [Chalky]Nice line you submitted the other day at the game Multiple Lines Per Player: “By giving her one 'gainst the wall”, but beware, pen may spot it and accuse you for being a “stupid sexist rubbish” publisher!
His hair-spring had sprung (Marc) Eyes? Bollocks! They're tits. You're in a hole - stop digging. And crawling.
The alarm had not rung
And his young lady friend wouldn't wait.
"Just whom do you think that you're kidding?"
Said seller to buyer when bidding
"This is a Titian . . . . hanging quotes
No way it's Mauritian"
.. why the long pause I wonder ..
So the deal to a quick halt came skidding. .. dodgy last line in order to move swiftly on
Chalky - I'm insuring my knees to the hilt
And my hips, though of Kevlar they're built
My ribs are of steel
(plus titanium heel)
And my false teeth- they're loaded with gilt
With 2 grams of flucloxacillin
You could wipe out all Enniskillen
All germs, bugs and cattle
You'd hear their death rattle
That's how you make a great killin'
Relaxing one day in the bath,
With a volume of Sylvia Plath
My bathing-mate's clowning
Pretending she’s drowning
What GSOH this girl hath.
I nipped into my bookies one day
And bet that Boy George wasn't gay
At eighty to one
I'd say I'd been done
But it turned out he wasn't - hooray! (in another universe.)
A funny lot, those London Loopers (It goes past my house).
Filled with tourists and some hula-hoopers
They circle the streets
They nibble their eats 1st + 4th is OK, I think.
As they stare at the guard-changing troopers
The Bishop of Bath and Wells Not everyone, it seems, knows what the London Loop is. It's a sort of M25 for walkers, and about as fast.
Never learned to control his bad smells (adding an xtra syllable for Rosie ;-)
His underarm pong
Made his churchgoing cong- (unfinished word alert)
-regation avoid waving farewells
The Bishops of Wells and of Bath
Forget that, not many rhymes for "bath".
The Bishop of Wells-next-the=Sea
Had a flock of just twenty and three
They worshipped their Bish
And sacrificed fish
Which after they ate for their tea
Archbishops, as rare as they are,
Are given free drinks at the bar
But Cardinals pay
For their fine Chardonnay
And prostrate themselves for a Budvar
An eparch, a breed rarer still,
Writes all his decrees with a quill
His face becomes stern
(But not quite a gurn)
When his inkpot requires a refill.
A lobster, a crab and an eel
Disputed who best danced a reel
They chose, as a judge,
Mister Barnaby Rudge
For whom 'twas a mighty ordeal.
Cor Blimey, I ne'er saw the like
It's three hairy men on a bike!
A trick such as that
Performed with eclat
Just bowls me right off of my trike.
We listen; we keep a straight face
As Bush pronounces "nuclear race"
But we can't hide a grin
At George's chagrin
When, mid-sentence, he loses his place
There once was a writer from Wrab
Who wrote of lives dreary and drab
These sorry commuters
On sorrier scooters
Since long they had left in a cab....
There was an old man from Nantucket
With no worldly goods but a bucket
At the bottom of which
Lay a kitten, named Titch,
People gaped at how far he could chuck it.
Do I win £5 for not finishing with "f*ck it"?
*splutters tea into her keypad*
While wand'ring around B & Q (ISP) Only if you can prove that you would not have used that asterisk.
I searched high and low for a screw
Just one, on its own
Or two-- one to loan--
But multipacks is all that they do. Bloody irritating. In the old days, one could go to the local ironmonger, but they have all gone to the wall. Grumble, moan.....
I grumble and moan and complain
That my wife is the cause of my pain
But her skill at defining
My incessant whining
Is proof that she has half a brain
Half a brain is better than none
Why just ask a zombie, my son
Why not ask Tony Blair
He's the brain of a hare
And Mad Hatter all rolled into one
“Hey you, please get up and get dressed,”
Called chef to a bare turkey breast
But the breast did not answer
The culinary chancer
Who was mad, as you may well have guessed. . . . weird . . .
"Oh Gwendolyn please get my helmet,"
I said as I painted the pelmet good luck...
And read from Wyrd Sisters
While piercing my blisters This is really stupid - someone put it out of its misery, please!
Where my heels and my shoes had just met Now moving swiftly on...
I stay in the poshest hotels
With the Bishop of Bath and of Wells
We share a hot tub [Chalky] In my defence, I invoked Wyrd Sisters only because it pointed to the only other rhyme for "helmet" I could think of (Duke Felmet).
Eat room service grub- [PJ] Not you, m'dear - it was yet another opening line in speech marks I was railing against :-)
And play Beatles songs on our handbells.
The Bishop has got a big dong
It's not nearly so wide as it's long
When he puts it on show
The sharp end does glow
And choirboys keep singing their song... Oh Gwendolyn please get my helmet, I said as we swung from the pelmet, And while we’re up here, I’ll lay you my dear, And use my baldhead if you’re unmet….
The sign in the window: "A vendre"
Which I took as a double entendre
I based my suspicions
On other omissions
Elle repose á la fenetre se détendre
There are discs; some are hard, some are floppy
There are bisques, some with lard, that are sloppy
I like to compare
The two, although they're
As diverse as a rose and a poppy
Horticultural savvy is fine
When it comes to a Wisteria vine
But it won't help you change
Your opinion on mange
Though it helps with a glass of red wine.... (Noah, one of our first Horticulturists taught us the tricks of enjoying garden life!)
Escaping conventional thoughts
Requires a dozen blue cots
One handful of brainwaves
A few music staves
And an infinite number of noughts.
'S not easy to grasp Relativity
And that is a shame, quite a pity
For the concept of time
Is bent, like this rhyme
To which I have quite a proclivity
Tonite I must polish my Harley
With a lettuce and syrup of barley
I find that the shine
On that Fat Boy of mine
Leights up the whall Rhondda Vaali.
Expenditure budgeted well
Is joyous, so I ring my bell
For fiscal propriety (Projoy) God, that's boring. :-)
Brings people satiety
By making life as boring as hell
Actuarial recalculations
Have declared that in Europe all nations run on . . .
Are living too long
And, therefore, must pong
So let's have some deodoration
(Sorry, missed off the S.)
Freight loadings are 5% up!
That's great, now I'll by a Pick-up!
But freight on the rail
Arrives on the nail
- Allows you to stay home and sup
Your lips are as shiny as honey
But don't make for me any money
So go on the game
But assume a false name
I swear I'll be proud of you, sonny.
In Canada, dollars and dimes
Are slang for the tariffs for crimes
Sow your oats and do porridge
Only eat what you forage
And gamble the proceeds betimes [SMith] That was SUCH a funny last line :-)
It's time for 'objectives' and 'plans'
Writ in Powerpoint with Comic Sans
With sliding transitions
Of your fiscal ambitions
Or you'll find yourselves driving white vans.
"The better to see you with, dear,"
"My, my! You've a wonderful rear"
"The left half is quite..."
"....neat, unlike the right"
"I’ll just take a lick, have no fear!"
"Dear Gram, why your ears are so hairy"?
"Because I'm a lycanthrope, deary."
"So I'm one as well?"
"Yes, you'll go to hell."
And that was the end (well, in theory).
A long list of things I must do
Leaves me no time to care about you
No matter that your
Foot's nailed to the floor
And you're bursting to go to the loo
A shortlist of people to see
Is something I'll write you for free
And if you've got time
You can see some of mine
And we'll all have each other to tea.
The business of catching a bat
Requires that you wear a top hat
On its rim a mesh net
And, to hand, a good vet
In case there's an unseemly splat
With a 'Yay', a 'Hurrah' and 'Yippee'
I've discovered philately G & S invoked
My stamps from Botswana
New Guinea and Ghana
Show naked boobies that swings free! [Rosie] We didn’t know you were a philatelist...
A booby who swings on a rope [Marc] Oh yes, philately will get you everywhere.
Will likely not end up as pope
But nevertheless may (Marc) I'm not. I just like tits.
Unless he's not gay? [Rosie] Remarkably so do I, my glasses get misty whenever I spot a pair of good-looking tits! (   )(   )
Jesus, Marc, can you not give it a break? It's the same 'joke' over and over again, which, if you're not already aware, makes you sound like a stupid and dirty old man. Please let me know if you're going to the pilg, for that's one I will take pains to avoid.
Become vicar of Stanford-Le-Hope. Or something. (Marc) You're obviously a tit man, or should I say "You're obviously a tit, man".
There once was a prudish old virgin [pen]that note was for Rosie only, hope he don't mind you reading it. See you at the pilg! [Rosie] Same to you, old man!
Who preached celibacy to spawn sturgeon
She took twenty years
And shed many tears
To make sure the eggs were emergin' OK- that's rid us of this nonsense ... onwards and upwards ...
There once lived a preacher called Vic
His message "Beware of Old Nick" This is more like it. Nice piece of disposal, Chalks.
He delivered his sermon - [Chalky] I feel minoritised. Us Geordies don't consider "years" and "tears" as rhyming. But then, we are daft as a brush :-)
And his parish, all German ..hmm, Multiple Lines Per Player, interesting concept....
Verschwunden im einem Augenblick I had to... anyone with a better line in english is welcome to interrupt.
I'm impressed with a) Knobbly's line, and b) babelfish's translation. Meanwhile, here's a line
While taking a sojourn in Spain
A vagabond purloined my brain
Those tacos with wine
And cod soaked in brine
Have caused me abdominal pain.
The ferry chugs over the channel
The sea is a glum shade of anil
The oil slicks are slimy
The low clouds are grimy
Can somebody please fetch a flannel?
"Bespoke", when applied to a tailor
Means 'promoted through a loud hailer'
But the phrase "off the peg"
Means that one's inside leg
Must be saved from Vlad the Impaler
The ferries of Bute and Dunoon
Have opened a route to the Moon
The journey is long
And starts in Hong Kong
(Connecting train from Kowloon).
I think, on a night so pristine,
Our thoughts should be with our dear Queen
Whose mammoth carouses (Tho' enjoyed by both Houses) Are frightfully hard to keep clean...
(Tho' enjoyed by both Houses..)
[Sticky] We like to stick to one line each in general in this game, though fair enough to you for tripping your tongue around that one.
The perils of being a monk
Are more than just living sans-bonk
Much harder by far
Than feathers and tar
Administered when one gets drunk
If ever you yearn to break free
And sail to Trincomalee
Take an old Galway hooker
Some distilled Sambuca
Weigh anchor, and head out to sea.
I swim every day in a pool
With my sweet rubber ducky - that's cool!
We play and get wet
And sometimes we pet
But mostly we dribble and drool
Summertime, and the living is easy
But Tony Blair's party's still sleazy
One woman could wreck it:
(But it isn't Ms Beckett)
I hear he's invited Condoleezza ... well, it rhymes when i say it
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