Sunday, 6 March 2022

DRASTIC SURGERY

 

People of a certain age

With skin like tired elastic

Go to see a surgeon

And are quite enthusiastic

Though the procedures

Seem a little drastic

The surgeon promises

They will look fantastic

In reality however they just

Tighten the tired elastic

But the patient is satisfied

And pay the bill on plastic

THE FALSETTO GENERATIONS

 

I was one of the baby boomers

And we were raised differently

The subsequent generations

Have developed much more selfishly

They are the falsetto generations

Because they always go me me me

NO FRILLS, MORE BILLS

 

No frills airlines will get your money

My fair means or by foul

This may mean them charging you

If you need a paper towel

Or if decompression occurs

And the oxygen mask is hanging there

You will have to put a pound coin in

Before it dispenses any air

MY FAVOURITE THINGS, NOT

 

Black spot-on roses and fingerless mittens

Green stinging nettles and flea ridden kittens

All creepy crawlies and insects with wings

These are a few of my un-favourite things

 

When my back aches

When my head spins

When I’m fighting mad

I just remember my un-favourite things,
And then I feel twice as bad.

 

Girls in tight trousers too small for their arses

People pretending that they don’t wear glasses

Long bitter winters and damp dismal springs

These are a few of my un-favourite things

 

When my back aches

When my head spins

When I’m fighting mad

I just remember my un-favourite things,
And then I feel twice as bad.

 

People who talk while I’m watching the telly

Women who show off too much of their bellies

Anyone who whistles and tunelessly sings

These are a few of my un-favorite things

 

When my back aches

When my head spins

When I’m fighting mad

I just remember my un-favourite things,
And then I feel twice as bad.

Saturday, 5 March 2022

21st CENTURY NURSERY RHYMES # 38

 

Ring-a-Ring o'Rosies

A Pocket full of Posies

“Pig flu! Pig flu!”

We all take a sickie!

CAN YOU IMAGINE WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE?

 

Can you imagine what it would be like?

To live on a housing estate

And be permanently ill at ease

Feeling your neighbours hate

 

Not just occasional hatred

But every day for sixty years

Each successive act of hate

Designed to optimise your fears

 

Can you imagine what it would be like?

To fear not just for your own life

But to be fearful for the safety

Of your children and your wife

 

Having to be always vigilant

Trying to anticipate their acts of spite

Surrounded by a sea of bile

For six decades without respite

 

Can you imagine what it would be like?

To know all your neighbour’s want your death

Want to eradicate you from existence

To squeeze from you your dying breath

 

If you can imagine this kind of life

And feel that bitter hatred daily

Then you should perhaps understand

How it feels to be an Israeli

EARLY ARRIVAL

 

At premature ejaculators anonymous

I sat all alone in the meeting room

And I pondered my solitary situation

And concluded that I just came too soon