Tuesday, 28 July 2009


At the cutting of hay, Miss Regina grows gay
And embraces her favourite sport.
With her racket in hand, she now scours the land
(Somewhat more than good manners purport).
With a gluttonous greed for her favourite 'seed'
(Though that's not quite the type that she seeks).
She craves not for tennis, but that other menace -
And she hopes to be laid up for weeks.

Friday, 24 July 2009


There was an old woman who lived in a shoe
Whose clutter of brats numbered forty and two.
She'd never got money for buying them bread,
Was forced into sleeping them 7 to a bed.
Afraid for her brood and fed up with the strife,
She set out to find them a cosy new life.
O'er mountains and oceans - begged, borrowed and stole -
Now they're all sitting pretty - in Staines - on the dole.

Thursday, 23 July 2009


The Boy stood on the burning deck,
His feet covered in blisters,
He must not die! - Not in these pants -
(They were his older sister's).

Wednesday, 22 July 2009


You ask how do I love thee?
Well now, let me count the ways -

Well, first, I love thee silent
(Although thou rarely are)
Then I adore your kindly ways
(To drunks and blokes in bars)

I love thy strong opinions
(Mine must always echo you)
Thy cleverest achievements
(Strange that I'd just done that, too )

I then adore your handsome lookes
(Pray thou lookes for another)
And then I love thee sleeping
(Tempted sore I am to smother)

I love thine strong and manly feet
(While treading upon mine)
I gaze upon thy ring-ed nose
(Repugnant rooting swine)

But most of all, my dearest heart,
I love thee from afar
(About nine miles does pretty well -
Ten minutes drive by car).

You ask how do I love thee?
Well now, let me count the ways ...
... ... ... Ummmmm ... ...

Friday, 17 July 2009


You too could see things from my perspective -

- If only you could get your head that far up your arse.

Wednesday, 15 July 2009


Due to absolute necessity (for the truth must now be told in all it's sordid detail) this is going to be a long'un (as the actress said to the bishop), so pop the cat on and boot the kettle out.

You'll all have heard the little tale about a boy named Jack,
Who trotted off to market but then only brought beans back.
His errand was to sell a cow - his folks were sore in need.
So fancy trusting such a prat with such a vital deed!

The story goes that Jack's Mum hurled these beans upon the ground
But in the morning, they were staggered at what they then found -
A huge ginormous beanstalk stretched right up into the sky!
You couldn't even see the top - not with the naked eye!
So we are told, young Jack climbed up and fought the Giant there,
So he could come back, stinking rich, and ease his folks despair.

Well now, you'd better listen here, 'cos there's one great big gap
In what had really happened - We've been fed a load of crap!
Yes, Jack did climb the beanstalk and, Oh Yes! A Giant he found.
But did he fight him? Not one plap! ... Read on ... I shall expound.

The Giant had lived all alone for many years, you see,
So when young Jack appeared, she thought "Girl, you've got company!".
Oh yes ... you hadn't heard that bit. You could not be aware ...
Jack's Giant was a girl - quite cute - blonde eyes and long blue hair.
She had been sent to Beanstalk Land as form of punishment -
Her sisters all had married, but she had stayed adamant.
She swore most solemnly that she would only give herself
To Gilbert Mew (at two foot two) who was - alas - an elf.

Clarissa - that's the Giant's name - had found her chosen one.
But tragic'ly, when she sat down, he vanished up her bum.
Well, by the time they found him, poor dear Gilbert Mew was dead.
'Twas easy to establish thus: They never found his head.
Clarissa wept and broke her heart and mourned her lover late,
From that day forth, she swore on oath, she'd stay quite celibate.
Of course her parents grieved for her, but they were quietly pleased
That the poncy squirt in the twee green shirt had gotten himself squeezed.
In vain the local males all flocked - Clarissa was a cracker
But, one by one, they limped away, each minus one huge knacker.

Now when we all were children and were naughty to our Mum,
She'd likely confiscate our toys, or smack us on the bum,
Or lock us in a closet 'til we learned to be compliant ...
But have you ever come across a closet for a Giant?
In Giantland, there's no such thing - well think about it, do.
How many trees would have to go to build one - quite a few!
Well, Giants live in harmony with all the birds and bees
And blooms and shrubs and animals and, yes, of course, the trees.
So, when a Giant is very bad, their worstest reprimand
Is finding themselves exiled off, to live in Beanstalk Land.

And, thus, the poor Clarissa had been pining in that dump
When, who should swagger in but our heroic little chump.
It soon became quite clear to Jack that he'd discovered gold!
An untupped source - provided she would do as she was told.
In Giantland, where girls were few and men's passions ran high,
He'd open up a Brothel - Yes! - his limit was the sky!

Jack lied to poor Clarissa, saying God had told him to
Deliver up a message from her lover, Gilbert Mew.
Most wickedly, he told her that it was dear Gilbert's wish
That she should not just pine away, but seek out fresher fish.
He said Gilbert shrank at the thought that she should go to waste
When surely every man in town would love to have a taste.
Gilbert had then implored of Jack - a man that she should trust -
To take care of Clarissa and her giant proportioned lust.
Clarissa tearfully agreed. Relief welled in her eyes,
That Gilbert harboured no ill will for his unkind demise.
Jack then e-mailed Clarissa's folks, to get their kind consent ...
"... Clarissa has relented, and seeks marriage most content."

A massive ball was organised to hail their daughter back,
And there to deal with 'business' was that lurid weasel, Jack.
The guest list was impressive - every Lord, Baron and Sir
Had hastened up to sample of this petal, oh so pure.
One hundred Giant guineas Jack had charged for every man
To "ride the stormy waters for as long as e'er you can".
Jack staggered underneath the weight of his ill-gotten gains
But - What the Hell! - he figured. It was worth the aches and pains.

Jack did his best to make sure poor Clarissa'd no idea,
So busy counting up his dosh, her steps he failed to hear.
Clarissa was exhausted and she was not having fun.
She sought out Jack. She saw his stack. Now he was sore undone!
He dared not waste one minute, so Jack grabbed the cash and fled
Hotly pursued by Giants needing bones to make their bread.

He legged it down the beanstalk to his Mother's waiting arms -
For Mother's are susceptible to all their babies' charms -
She swallowed every lie and tale - The lot! Hook, line and sinker.
She never had an inkling that her son was such a stinker.
He lied and lied and lied again - on that score he was quick.
Jack was declared a Hero! - The conniving little prick!

He told of battles fought with Giants fifty-six feet tall!
He told of how they captured him and tortured him and all!
He told of his brave fortitude and of his great escape!
He told about his flight, chased by a thirty-two foot ape!
He lied about - oooh - loads of things, but certainly the worst,
He lied about the contents of his great big bulging purse.
He told folks there were diamonds and he told them there were pearls.
But soon he'd pissed off most the men - and all the local girls.

Inside a week, the townsfolk couldn't stand the sight of Jack,
But Tradesmen, how they loved him, crying "Great to see you back!".
But then they found that Jack had dealt a blow most underhand -
His Giant guineas were not legal tender in this land!!
Of course, they wanted payment for that silken skunk lined Robe,
Demanded money for those disco lights and flashing strobe,
The brand new car, the base guitar - the list would make you cough.
The townsfolk wanted blood - but Jack was packed - and he was off!!

Jack hurdled garden fences, jumped o'er every candlestick,
But he wasn't very nimble and he wasn't very quick.
He leapt through pantry windows, went careering door to door.
He would have gotten clean away - all but for one big flaw.
In fact, the flaw was massive and so big you couldn't miss her,
Now dangling, dazed, from upside down, Jack focused on ... Clarissa!!
How could he have been quite so daft - the dimple-witted clown?
The one job he had failed to do, was cut the beanstalk down!

Now Giantland had come to him, a-baying for his blood.
Their nightmares tones in chorus with those of the neighbourhood.
Clarissa's parents, too, were there, demanding Jack's demise,
For spoiling of their 'rose-bud' - they had murder in their eyes!

I'd better skip the next bit, as it isn't very nice
(And you'd never look the same at any jam pud made with rice).

Suffice to say that everyone lived happy after all
And all the folks from Giantland were at the wedding ball.
Clarissa finally had found a man to cure her heart
No longer haunted by poor Gilbert's whisper in each fart.
She married Stan - a Baker Man - a robust five foot ten -
Her folks did not object - Nooo! They would not go there again!
And all Jacks friends and neighbours gathered round to see them off.
But if you asked what came of Jack, you'd get a nervous cough.

The day belonged to Bride and Groom - a match from heaven sent.
The Groom, he looked most handsome, and the Bride was radiant.
Her earrings, though, were curious - of strange designs and shapes -
Two diamond studded eye-balls with two dangling pink grapes!

Tuesday, 14 July 2009


I hereby invite everyone in Blogland to go to the last but one comment on an old posting of mine "Will The Real Elmer Fudd Please Stand Up" dated 3rd July 2009.

Some cheeky gobshite (Steve4summinkorother) has left an advert for Limo Hire on my Blog!!!.

As you will see, I have left him with as ladylike a reply as I could manage for his cheek, but would dearly lovely everyone who reads this to click on the link that this twat has left and see if we can't make him think twice about this most unwelcome type of intrusion.
BOO! There ... that woke you all up, didn't it? Well don't let me catch you napping again.

Monday, 13 July 2009


When God made man's wife his better half, why make his mistress the better whole?

Sunday, 12 July 2009


On top of the wardrobe
Entangled in crap
There lyeth my youngest
Enjoying a nap.

Now don't be mistaken
And don't be misled
Been looking for weeks now
But can't find his bed.

Friday, 10 July 2009


Now there wuz I, thinkin I'd be clever! I only wondered why TFE's latest posts weren't showing up on my blog dashboard, until I realised that I hadn't registered on his blog as a follower.

RIGHT! Says I - just like that (nearly startled meself in the process) - I'll do that now!

So I goes along to TFE's blog, clicks a few buttons and - Hey Presto! There I am! Following meself! (And I thought he looked ugly from the back!)

Well, I am now following TFE as well (and sure, he looks a lot better from the back than I do (probably looks a lot better from the front as well) - BUT - I'm getting a bit dizzy cos I'm still following meself at the same time. I daren't press any more buttons, cos the last time I did that, me bum dropped off. See? - there it is on the floor, doubling as a magazine rack - I wish they'd make the Farmers Weekly a bit thinner, cos when I cough I can read the classifieds.

And this, boys and girls, is why you should never let old or silly people near a computer.

Here endeth a most valuable lesson.

Thursday, 9 July 2009


You must never let a Pillock in your kitchen
'Cos you know that things'll never be the same
You'll find iPods in your drawers
And you'll hunt for evermore
For all your bits'n'bobs - And WHO'S to blame?!

Now, by 'Pillock' I mean all those in your household
That are not trained or versed in cooking food
Kids; Dogs; Husbands; The Au Pair
They've no business being there
And, Yes Dear, if you must, you may be rude.

Things'll never get put back the way they're s'posed to
And you'll run yourself into a ragged mess
You'll find flour in your fridge
And your lodger on a bridge
'Cos he's had enough, and he can't stand the stress.

Please don't think that you will find a pint of FRESH milk
When you open up your fridge to have a peek
'Cos the moment there's a new'un
They'll have THAT - Green, Puce or Blue'un
And the old one will have curdled by next week.

"How many bags of crisps was it you bought, Dear?
I'd have sworn that you said 80, more or less;
Well, the bloody lot has gawn -
And the 'nanas, cheese and prawn!
Who on earth is it we're feeding - Ten Ton Tess?!"

Oh, yes, Hubby cannot understand your problem
His children always ask before they take.
Well, the buggers didn't peep
Prior to eating half a sheep
And a ton or two of Tuna Pasta Bake!

Now I'm simply not the type for bearing grudges
And my children are the apple of my eye.
But they never wipe up drips
All my best cups now have chips
I've found tin foil in my plants
I've found TEABAGS in my PANTS!
I've found batteries that breed
And a crispy millipede
And they NEVER clean the grill
Leave their mugs out on the cill
Wash their trainers in my sink
Do all SORTS of things that stink!
Dribble all sorts on my floor
I could clean for evermore!
Will the shits ever wash up?
Just what IS it in that cup!?
Oh! To hell with you lot! Go catch germs and DIE!!

Wednesday, 8 July 2009


Support Bacteria

... it's the only culture you're going to find on this blog!

Tuesday, 7 July 2009


When God created Leprosy did he work alone, or did someone give him a hand?

Friday, 3 July 2009


Well, after a truly crappy week, I would normally bury myself in blogland and write something stupid - this being the purest form of escape I know. However, finding myself short of inspiration tonight, and in preparation of yet another stunning week which commences with taking my handicapped daughter in for ear surgery - my mind wandered (as it has a habit of doing more and more often these days) to our last visit to the hospital.

Our thoughts tend to follow a set pattern upon these occasions - park, appointment, coffee.

The parking is great fun. The Omnipotent Beings at the RUH have decided that it had become far too easy to park there and that life had become a little tedious for them with all these sick people floating around. Their answer? - to put barriers across the entrance of every car park. Of course none of these barriers will lift unless there is an actual space to pull straight into. The result is queues of fuming motorists clogging every road into, inside and within a 5 mile radius of the hospital.

I have to admit, they got the entertainment side of it right - we watched while two separate punch-ups developed. This gave the security staff something to do, bless 'em, while providing free in-car entertainment for us other poor buggers that were still stuck in the traffic flow, preventing buses, taxis, ambulances (and the Police) from getting in.

I narrowly missed one space, taken by some flash cove in a coach and 4 - said he'd been waiting longer than me (since 1804, to be precise). Threatened me with a pair of ivory handled flintlocks, so I let it go - actually, I let his horses go, the minute his back was turned.

Appointment? Dunno - I missed it altogether, as I was still stuck in the car an hour and a half later!

Coffee - well, that was worth the journey alone. As we sat supping our cups of putrefied weevil piss, we noticed a dear little lady of around 90 come into the restaurant with a sit-on type shopping trolley. She wore a starkly familiar dark velvet saggy style peaked hat, that seemed far too big for her tiny head. Her nose was remarkably bulbous and she was gummy - Oh boy, was she gummy! She hadn't a tooth in her head, bless her. That was it. I was HOOKED!

You KNOW it's rude, but you've just GOT to look.

She then proceeded to buy a huge steak-size plate full of just chips, together with around a dozens sachets of tomato ketchup which she then determined to smother the chips with, before sucking the ENTIRE plate clean. I nearly weed.

Then something AWFUL happened. I remembered where I'd seen her before.

Unfortunately, my daughter had her mouth full of coffee when I just couldn't help myself any longer and said "Be ve-wy qwiet - I'm huntin' WABBIT!!". I know. I'm such a bitch. But I'm telling you, this was Elmer Fudd in drag. And I only added a very quiet "Scwewey Wabbit" and my daughter disappeared, spewing a trail of coffee-dribble all the way to the 'Ladies'.

I think we'll try Starbucks next time, it might be safer. We might also be able to park - or even find an ear specialist!


Tyger, Tyger, burning brite
In the forests of the nite
If I coulde, I would smite
The git that set the woods alite.