Monday, 29 June 2009


Skippy-doo McFergus
Was a Spy extraordinaire
Of utmost ingenuity -
And ultra-debonair.

He'd jet and jump around the world
One crisis to another
Defeating all the baddie-men
Then fly back home to Mother.

Great Britain's Super-operative
Had never yet been beat.
Intelligence par excellence
Each undercover feat.

He'd blend into the scenery
Where'ere he was assigned.
Invisible to everyone
As if they had been blind.

But, half past two, in Timbuktu
Poor Skippy came unstuck.
His rival - Boris Vindoline -
Kidnapped him in a truck.

During interrogation in
Some dark, dank, dismal place,
Poor Skippy found a dazzling light
Shone hard into his face.

Well, Skippy's world was shattered.
How on earth had they known?
How long had they been watching him?
How was his cover blown?

Harsh words barked in from all sides round -
"Vat ... Vy ... Ven... Vere, und Who?"
But Skippy only focused on
Who'd dropped him in the pooh.

But, as they tied him to a post
Before the firing squad
The Commandant came over
And he spoke - though rather odd.

"Ven ve knew you vas Briteesher
Ve KNEW vat you vas at!
Only ze Briteesh give a SPY
A STUPID NAME like zat!!"

Friday, 26 June 2009


By the time Flopsy Bunny
Had called to his Mummy
"Hey Mum! What's this thing on my head?"
She responded "Oh! Sorry! -
"We call that A LORRY"
But poor little Flopsy was dead.

And she'd TOLD him to keep an eye out for them.

Quick! White Rabbit, White Rabbit, White Rabbit!

I've just realised that I had 13 posts on my blog and that's unlucky. So I've had to add this one quickly just to counter any lurking evil spirits - particularly because I've got to look in the mirror in a minute and that's unlucky enough as it is.

Thursday, 25 June 2009


Well, that's it. I'm going mental. I just thought you ought to know.
Though I still appear quite normal, there are weeny signs that show.
I like talking to the Beavers, though the Beavers have gone home.
But I carry on regardless, when I know I'm quite alone.

Then I polish bits of biscuit that look messy on the plate
And if I can't get them shiny - Ooooooh! I do get so irate!
Now I've started reading bookends - cos they've got to end somewhere.
I've found that's where all the best bits are. The rest? I just don't care!

I keep my knickers in the fridge, beside the toast and Spam.
Why do I do this, you may ask. I do, because I can.
I wear my specs atop my head, out of necessity.
That way I cannot see my nose. It frightens me, you see.

I sneak about outside the shops and quickly swap around
The doggies that are tethered there, just so they can't be found.
I creep up on old people and I whisper "I smell wee"
But when they see the puddle, well, they know that it was me.

I angrily march into banks, demand they count their money
Just so that I can sing along - Can't think why they get funny.
I've started ironing Pop Tarts, though I've no idea why.
It makes my teeth smell funny and pings crumbs into my eye.

I like to collect traffic lights and keep them in my drawer.
Even my lawyer told me he'd not heard that one before.
I yodel into post boxes and wait for a reply.
And if I don't receive one, I write letters asking why.

I like to tell Policemen they've a weasel in their hat.
Then, when they take it off to look, I WHACK 'em - just like that!
I'm a menace to society, of that there is no doubt.
But, when they come to get me, I'll just tell them I've gone out.

Saturday, 20 June 2009


I just thought everyone should know that my older sister Mad Aunt Bernard (she is one hundred and eleventy-twelve, you know) is being released from Worthing Nick tomorrow. Yes, I know - she did INDEED keep that quiet. Her husband, Cybil, is off to fetch her first thing - bless.

Well, you know she went to visit her sister there (who was doing a stretch for headbutting an MP) but the silly thing got caught smuggling in toadspawn curries (a local delicacy in those parts, though now banned under the 'Well I Dont Like It So You'll Jolly Well Have To Lump It' Act 1822) and organising illegal cheese rolling bouts.

Of course, it wasn't the fencing they objected to (although it could have done with a tad of creosote) but the fact that she flatly refused to bribe the guards (who were quite sorely put out, apparently) and, when challenged, she started with her incantations and ... well, the rest you can guess.

The governor's hair was falling out anyway - the fella looked downright dropsical, I'd say - but the poor dear copped it for threatening one of her Majesty's best with witchcraft and alopecia. However, she really can't grumble, as they did take six other counts of Goat Skipping (highly dangerous if they're the 'horny' type) and Gibbon Snibbling into account.

I say she got off lightly. I didn't get where I am today by snibbling gibbons. Bloody silly if you ask me, but there it is. So just be nice to her when you see her, will you?

Thursday, 11 June 2009


I try to keep in focus
But life's become more blurred
And all the things I used to do
Seem distant and absurd.
I can't remember anything,
I'd go around the bend,
But I'd forget the road to take
And end up in Oostend.
I rush around the whole day long
In circles on the spot.
I went upstairs to get something,
But, once there, I forgot.
When I go out for shopping
I have to take with me
My passport and my license
- Though not for identity -
I need to take them just in case
I forget where I roam,
So I can read the bloody things
And find my way back home.
I went to see my doctor,
A week ago, last week,
But once we sat there, face to face,
I couldn't think to speak.
But now I'm so glad that I went
I know I'm not alone,
I prescribed two weeks full bed rest
And sent the poor man home.

Wednesday, 10 June 2009



The Post wot wuz postid yer was riveoowed by the manijmunt and it wuz desidid that it wuz shit and so it haz bin rimooved and poot in a big bocks wiv orl the uther shit blogs.

By Order of The Management.


Now, wouldn't it be funny
If the men with all the money
All had suddenly turned runny in the head.

And with no stocks and shares
All your multi-millionaires
Would refuse to come downstairs, but stay in bed.

What if banks had empty tills
With the Manager on pills
'Cos he couldn't pay his bills out of the red.

And you couldn't get your pension
Or a dribble worth a mention
What with all the added tension, you'd be dead.

So let's show them that we love 'em
Only God could stand above 'em
Our resolve to serve will toughen (out of dread).

So, please hurry - do as I do
Take a bucket full of Cow-pooh
Make a large deposit - or two - 'nuff said.