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Tony Hemmings: A Daily Poem

John Simkin

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Tony Hemmings will be posting a daily poem in this thread. Here are six samples:

25th Nov 04


The Osbournes were burgled and talked to the Press -

Cosy old Britain has failed to impress –

Crime is as rife as in rampant L.A. -

Is there a chance that they may not stay?

Ozzy disturbed the intruders at night,

And he and his wife had a terrible fright –

Thousands of pounds of jewellery gone,

Alone in their mansion, sine qua non.

None of the swearing or playing the fool -

This is for real and playing it cool,

But why do they think they’re a special case,

Or that anyone cares if they leave the place?

26th Nov 04


The cork in the bottle is nearing its doom

Bringing the purists nothing but gloom

At the thought of the ‘pop’ disappearing for good,

The music of drinkers for centuries stood.

Of anticipation in bringing good cheer,

The cork is tradition to love and revere,

Mis en bouteille for hundreds of years,

Its untimely demise will only bring tears.

But only the screwtop will surely survive,

Securing the wine and helping it thrive –

Farewell to the corkscrew, the style and panache

In extracting the cork and making a splash.

27th Nov 04


Loutish behaviour is on the ascent,

Lager louts making our country resent

The way that they shatter the peace in our lives,

An ill-disciplined lot now armed with their knives.

They threaten and taunt our civilized state

With a shout, kick and punch, they practice their hate

For a normal society conforming to law,

A serious threat which we have come to deplore.

Now there is murder to add to the charge

Of unruly behaviour, with devils at large.

Get hold of the parents and name them with shame,

Put them in stocks to extinguish the flame.

28th Nov 04


A Yorkshireman born with plenty of spunk,

Blunkett is never a man to funk,

Blind from his birth he has scaled the heights,

Brazen, courageous in all of his fights.

Here is a hero to seize the day,

Enjoying the buzz and political fray,

Promoting I.D.’s to save us from hell,

Right in the front to dissidents quell.

A man with a mission and fervent desire,

But the nauseous media have to enquire

How he conducts his private affairs –

All praise to the minister – ‘he who dares’.

29th Nov 04


A French woman lives on another plain,

Her body and image in earnest to train,

To revel in sex in the afternoon,

For chocolate and wine and bread to swoon.

The secret of eating for pleasure is rife,

And the lust for the grape is the role of the wife,

With cholesterol good and blood pressure low,

The body inside is all aglow.

She never looks fat, a romantic at heart,

A truffle desired, and a trifle apart,

Shockingly chique and singly assured,

The woman of France is never ignored.

30th Nov 04


The radio, tele, and Press bring us news,

Too much to digest and too many views

For our limited size and overfull brain –

Straight in and out and nil to retain.

Most of it negative, gossip and fear,

Celebrity led and poppycock sheer,

News between ads and something to fill,

A daily concoction to sift through and swill.

Enough to depress and make one annoyed,

Better the news of the day to avoid,

And get on with a life, one’s aims to fulfil,

With news of your own to overspill.

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1st Dec 04


Concealing a weapon, he knocks on the door,

Ready to strike and push to the floor

An innocent victim, easy to kill,

Rich for the pickings, murder at will.

Desperate, demented, high on cocaine,

But callous and cool, like an actor to train,

He offers a smile that pierces the heart

Tearing his guise and his victim apart.

With the flash of the tongue of a poisonous snake,

He shatters his prey who thought him a fake -

Murder most foul for meazly drugs

Calls for the noose for the merciless thugs. 2nd Dec 04


Tomorrow the operators think you will own

The third generation of mobile phone

With multiple options to understand,

Sound, picture, text, in the palm of your hand.

Walking the streets with your eye on the screen,

Scanning the messages scene by scene,

Glued to the box like a video game,

With never the chance to finally tame.

A picture in thumbnail, miniature mad,

Fiddling fingers to follow the fad,

Talk to the camera with arm outstretched -

Is the video age on our brain to be etched?

3rd Dec 04


They say there will be an election in May,

And Brown, in his wisdom, is paving the way

With a package of sweets, and electoral bribe

For a family friendly welfare tribe.

Paying for longer maternity leave,

Encouraging couples now to conceive

And flexible working as they progress,

For parents and voters, the child to bless.

Setting up schools for free nursery care,

From morning till night, the baby to share –

Gordon, the father, flexible, free,

Staking his claim for supremacy.

4th Dec 04


Do we all have a genealogical trait

To know of our ancestors rather than fate,

To discover the reasons we are what we are?

Better than reading the stars by far.

These are the facts, the looks and the deeds,

The National Archive giving us leads

To past generations, for better or worse,

Born with a silver spoon or a curse.

Are we from modest and humble means,

Tracing a line of conventional genes

Or a mixture of questionable qualities cast,

Totally different from centuries past?

5th Dec 04


Too many cars and not enough space,

Temperatures rising for finding a place –

Parking is nearing a national disease,

Nowhere to go and exorbitant fees.

Vehicles littered in overspill,

Creating a wasteland, left in the will

Of today’s generation, per person a car,

A raging catastrophe threatens afar.

The centre of cities have ground to a halt,

And who is to blame? It is everyone’s fault.

Too easy a transport for pleasure and work,

Free buses and trains are the wonderwork.

6th Dec 04


Which is the product you ought to buy,

With so many brands for the stores to supply?

Which is the best and which is the worst,

A very good deal or a product accursed?

A world full of bargaining ads to tempt,

Decisions to buy or mind to pre-empt,

Caught in the retailers’ tug of war,

Fiercely competitive down to the core.

Now Internet shopping is stirring the trade,

With reductions in price the shops to invade.

A nation of shopkeepers is waiting to die -

The margin on goods are too high to defy.

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(For Ann Winterton)

They claim their planet's dying:

that soon it's going to blow

And so they're coming here - they say

they've nowhere else to go....

With their strange computer voices

and their one eye on a pole

They're moving in next door and then

they're signing on the dole.....

Asylum seeking Daleks

are landing here at noon!

Why can't we simply send them back

or stick them on the moon?

It says here in the Daily Mail

they're coming here to stay -

The Loony Lefties let them in!

The middle class will pay......

They say that they're all pacifists:

that doesn't wash with me!

The last time I saw one I hid

Weeks behind the settee...

Good Lord - they're pink. With purple bumps!

There's photos of them here!

Not just extra-terrestial....

The bloody things are queer!

Yes! Homosexual Daleks

And they're sponging off the State!

With huge Arts Council grants

to teach delinquents how to skate!

It's all here in the paper -

I'd better tell the wife!

For soon they will EXTERMINATE

Our British way of life.....

This satire on crass ignorance

and tabloid-fostered fear

Is at an end. Now let me give

One message, loud and clear.

Golf course, shop floor or BNP:

Smash bigotry and hate!

Asylum seekers - welcome here.

You racists: emigrate!

(not Tony Hemmings AFAIK but this was posted on the TES discussion board and I thought it merited a wider audience)

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The Tay Bridge Disaster

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay!

Alas! I am very sorry to say

That ninety lives have been taken away

On the last Sabbath day of 1879,

Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

'Twas about seven o'clock at night,

And the wind it blew with all its might,

And the rain came pouring down,

And the dark clods seem'd to frown,

And the Demon of the air seem'd to say-

"I'll blow down the Bridge of Tay."

When the train left Edinburgh

The passengers' hearts were light and felt no sorrow,

But Boreas blew a terrific gale,

Which made their hearts for to quail,

And many of the passengers with fear did say-

"I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay."

But when the train came near to Wormit Bay,

Boreas he did loud and angry bray,

And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay

On the last Sabbath day of 1879,

Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

So the train sped on with all its might,

And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sught,

And the passengers' hearts felt light,

Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,

With their friends at home they lov'd most dear,

And wish them all a happy New Year.

So the train mov'd slowly along the Bridge of Tay,

Until it was about midway,

Then the central girders with a crash gave way,

And down went the train and passengers into the Tay!

The Storm Fiend did loudly bray,

Because ninety lives had been taken away,

On the last Sabbath day of 1879,

Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

As soon as the catastrophe came to be known

The alarm from mouth to mouth was blown,

And the cry rang out all o'er the town,

Good Heavens! the Tay Bridge is blown down,

And a passenger train from Edinburgh,

Which fill'd all the peoples hearts with sorrow,

And made them for to turn pale,

Because none of the passengers were sav'd to tell the tale

How the disaster happen'd on the last Sabbath day of 1879,

Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

It must have been an awful sight,

To witness in the dusky moonlight,

While the Storm Fiend did laugh, and angry did bray,

Along the Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,

Oh! ill-fated Bridge of thSilv'ry Tay,

I must now conclude my lay

By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,

That your central girders would not have given way,

At least many sensible men do say,

Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,

At least many sensible men confesses,

For the stronger we our houses do build,

The less chance we have of being killed. :)

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Guest Andrew Moore

Credit where it's due, please. This terrible poem is one of many gems by the late William Topaz McGonagall... Maybe you should add the later piece Beautiful New Bridge of the Silvery Tay.

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7th Dec 04


The waters round Britain are losing their fish -

A serious threat to the fish and chip dish,

The most popular meal in Britain's cuisine,

So why should the Government intervene?

The problem is trawling with nets far and wide,

With gargantuan mouths for a harvest inside

Of every conceivable fish in the sea

From cod to a porpoise - sheer lunacy!

Left to the gulls the forbidden catch,

The trawlermen forced to forego their patch

To give time to regenerate dwindling stocks,

the boats and consumers stuck hard on the rocks.

8th Dec 04


As a clamper of cars, a profession to gain,

Five hundred pounds for the skill to train

In immobilization - a chain and a plate

Securing a wheel and the vehicle's fate.

Needing a hacksaw to open the vice,

Most are resigned to paying the price

For failing to follow the crippling laws

And bowing to meters and feeding their jaws.

To set the device is a simple affair

Compared with the hazardous meeting and scare

In being confronted with hate and abuse -

So most of the course is in making a truce.

9th Dec 04


They are cutting the staff at the BBC,

A radical step in adversity,

Attacked by the Press for the licence fee,

Unsure of its ultimate destiny.

They have to keep up in this digital age,

A war with commercial parties to wage

In keeping the dreaded commercials at bay -

Offering choice is the only way.

Twenty-five thousand are paid to produce

And deliver the programmes with no excuse,

Not with a view to a ratings war -

Simply a case of offering more.

10th Dec 04


Twenty-eight thousand pounds was paid

By celebrities fooled, lamented, and crazed

For a truffling treasure the size of a fist,

But the ultimate outcome was not as they wished.

The chef put the novelty out on display

Like a gnarled potato, or a model in clay.

Then put in the safe in the fridge to protect,

Awaiting the moment of truth to dissect.

But sadly the key to the safe disappeared.

As the week went by the future was feared.

When the key was unearthed the truffle had mould,

And that was the end of their portion of gold.

11th Dec 04


The celebrity novice is learning to dance

Careering along in a ballroom prance

Following teacher with tentative toes

Trying to look like one of the pros.

But moving to music is not for us all -

No bodily rhythm, not having a ball,

Exposed and inhibited, stuck to the floor,

Ridiculed judged with a pitiful score.

To glide like a skater with style and panache,

Or walking on stilts to wait for the crash -

The pupil and teacher have miracles made,

In pleasure and pain a picture parade.

12th Dec 04


The top of the sports from the BBC,

The annual theatrical jamboree,

The moments of glory for viewers replayed,

The best of our Britishers on parade.

Gold Kelly Holmes was the star of the night -

To come from behind was a glorious sight,

Then Pinsent the rower with four golds in all

And Freddie the Flintoff for bat and the ball.

For Botham, the hero, a lifetime award

And tennis's Federer, the winner abroad -

There were Ryder Cup, Relay, Arsenal and Test

But the team of the rowers were voted the best.

13th Dec 04


A teacher is raped by a twelve year old,

A boy with behavioural problems we're told,

At the end of a one to one class in the school -

Hardly a case of just breaking the rule.

Barely passed puberty but clearly obsessed,

His body awakening put to the test -

Only a child but destroyed as a child,

Neglected and left to survive in the wild.

Hard to believe at such tender an age,

Enough to incur our society's rage

At an act so outrageous, so cruelly debased,

The result of his crime in fear to be faced.

14th Dec 04


They are anti-social behaviour pigs,

Out of their field to their newly found digs

Of manicured gardens and looking for treats,

Enjoying their freedom and roaming the streets.

Frightfully bored they nosed under the wire,

Leaving a telltale trail in the mire,

Snorting and squealing like yobs in the town,

The police and the villagers tracking them down.

An ASBO was served on the farmer in court,

Required to comply with the pigs' support,

Not to cause havoc all over the place,

As if they were humans to spoil and debase.

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15th Dec 04


The media revelled in cutting him down,

Quick to find fault in a man of renown,

Scorned by the woman who gave him a child

In a previous life when their passions were wild.

A good man at heart but arrogant, tough,

Happy to fight when the going got rough,

Berating his colleagues when writing his book,

Wanting, it seems, his own goose to cook.

Encouraged, admired by his own PM,

Immigrants, crime and terror to stem -

A political maverick, lost in his prime,

To be blind in his passion his solitary crime.

16th Dec 04


Cricket is part of the national domain,

A subject of passion as much as the rain,

Watched by an avid fanatical eye –

A ball by ball drama for all to espy.

All of the ages can follow the game,

Never a match or a ball is the same,

Once on the box for all to see,

But now we are facing calamity.

The Cricketing Board has succumbed to the guile

Of monopoly Sky for making a pile

At the expense of the nation, having to pay

Four hundred a year for watching the play.

17th Dec 04


Sales in the retail sector are poor,

Money is tight and stretched to the core

With borrowing high, there’s trouble in store –

With retailers now in an all out war.

They’re cutting the margins and price to the bone,

No interest on credit nor personal loan,

Loss leader bribes for getting them in,

Ads in the nationals with prizes to win.

Too many shopkeepers, too many goods,

Maybe they’ll never be out of the woods,

With Internet shopping all of the rage,

It’s the start of the end of the High Street age.

18th Dec 04


Turkey in Europe is part of the plan,

Fifty more millions to add to the clan.

Muslims to mix with the Christian brigade

Or the start of a cunning reversal crusade?

Christ was our countries’ exclusive belief

But a century passed has turned a new leaf

And Europe is now but a multiple breed

Of origins global in colour and creed.

Sixty years after the end of the war

There’s peace that is safer than ever before

And maybe the Turks will add to the mix,

To the sloth of the countries a welcoming fix.

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25th Dec 04


A falling of snow on Christmas day

Much to the bookies sad dismay

But not many ventured outside in the cold

Preferring to sleep and presents unfold.

This is a day to fully unwind

Away from the pressure and daily grind

With Christians to celebrate Jesus’s birth,

The joy in his coming with pleasure and mirth.

If we only had Christmas each day of the year

When everyone hopes for and brings good cheer,

Then peace on our earth would quickly prevail

And Christ as our saviour would everyone hail.


The earthquake erupted deep under the sea,

An explosion of massive intensity

In the Indian ocean, just after the dawn,

Not time to escape or even to warn.

A wave of enormous proportions spread out

To Thailand, Sumatra, Sri Lanka to rout.

Nothing and no-one could alter its course,

A steam roller wall of incredible force.

The coastlines were totally wiped away

Together with people perchance in the way.

Thousands were plunged to a watery grave,

Like pieces of driftwood unable to save.

27th Dec 04


So many deaths at Christmas time,

Tsunamis, explosions and violent crime,

African poverty, Middle East strife,

Everyone has their own value on life.

Christmas is more about birth than death

With carols of joy from every breath

So losses at Christmas have double the force,

Families drowned in pain and remorse.

Sad that our Christmas could not be of peace

Free from disasters, a gentle release,

But nothing could save the poor souls from the wave,

A Christmas to ponder, the cradle and grave.

28th Dec 04


Stories of death and disaster are told

Courage with fortune or fate unfold -

Maybe one hundred thousand are lost

And no-one is able to count the cost.

Bodies are lying all over the place,

Buried in buildings without a trace,

Left to decay for spreading disease,

Bringing he countries close to their knees.

Battered and blistered bodies are still,

Malaria, cholera rampant at will –

No water drink in the festering heat

And not enough medicine the living to treat.

29th Dec 04


An interim week for the country at large

Moving along at the speed of a barge,

Leisurely indolent, slothful and fat,

An economy stalled, lethargic and flat.

Most have got out of the habit of work,

Enjoying the fun of the holiday perk,

Putting up feet and nursing a head,

Watching the tele and lying in bed.

Britain reclining, declining in power,

Increasing the national debt by the hour,

Whilst hungrier countries slave away,

Producing the goods and earning their pay.

30th Dec 04


Research says obsessions are out of control,

Fanned by the media, taking their toll

On the souls and the pockets of citizens fair,

Consumed in the end by the wasted affair.

Watching the football, match after match,

Drooling about a celebrity catch,

Fooled by the horoscopes, crystal balls,

Glued to the soaps whatever befalls.

Now the computer is sucking us in,

Stealing our hours like a magnet within,

Obsessed to the point of no release,

Yet none will provide a morsel of peace.

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7th Jan ‘05


What a relief at the end of the week,

The first of the year and looking so bleak –

Nothing but terrible news every day,

In the world and the office, but needing the pay.

Starting the engine again from the cold,

Blowing out smoke and another year old,

Oiling the parts and the difficult boss,

Cleaning the body and putting on gloss.

Back to procedures and lousy routine,

Churned all around in a washing machine –

A disposable item to be shown on the books -

To be an employee is not what it looks.

8th Jan ‘05


Old Jerry Springer is stirring up strife

On live television – a pitiful life

Encouraging hate on the studio floor,

With ‘f’ing and fighting like never before.

The audience bays for the stooges on stage,

Lunatics found for a war to wage.

Smug little Jerry likes raising the stakes,

And poking his oar in and cueing the breaks.

Now there’s an opera made of his show,

A fail for the ‘f’ing for fouling the flow.

The composer, the singers and chorus were fine

But the people and words were a decadent sign.

9th Jan ‘05


Breakfast on Sunday, a serious treat –

Two boiled eggs and the toast to complete

The joy of the week, if you follow the rules

With the proper ingredients and appropriate tools.

Pepper and salt, the toaster and rack,

Pricking the eggs to avoid any crack -

Boil in a saucepan, five minutes precise,

With a cutter, the top off the eggs to slice.

Butter the toast, then fingers to make,

In pepper and salt the tasties to rake,

Then dip them right into the core of the egg,

A magnificent taste for the world to beg.

10th Jan ‘05


Not on the scale of tsunami, it’s true,

But those in Carlisle had more than their due

From a downpour of rain from the threatening moors,

With global warming the probable cause.

The city was flooded to more than eight feet.

A flotilla of dinghies along every street

Ferried the stranded to higher ground

But sadly some of the residents drowned.

Five thousand homes and businesses hit –

Ten thousand people were cruelly split

But draining the plains and planing the drains

Didn’t help much in absorbing the rains.

11th Jan ‘05


They conjure up tales of political lore,

The media relish a personal war

Of confident Blair and capable Brown

Fighting it out but playing it down.

Friendly but fickle, flirting with fate,

They smile at each other but inwardly hate,

But being PM, it is hard to forego

The trappings of power when you’re running the show.

Gordon, ambitious, with wearisome eyes,

Hopes from the Left for a pleasant surprise,

With kniving, conniving, the battle of ‘B’s

Will rage in the virulent media sleaze.

12th Jan ‘05


University students are poor,

Struggling to make ends meet,

But the morals of many leave much to deplore –

They plagiarize and cheat.

Uncivil, unruly and impolite,

With no time for ethics and rules,

Unwilling to do what is decent and right,

It’s not what they teach in the schools.

These, the intelligent cream of our race,

Should be lectured on how to behave

As responsible students with manners and grace,

About ethics and morals to rave.

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25th Jan ‘05


A cold Winter’s morning, the wind from the North

Piercing the children sallying forth,

Dressed for the classroom, no sensible coat –

No scarf, hat nor gloves – just nothing of note.

Bare tummies galore and blue from the cold,

On fatuous fashions the youngsters are sold –

Exposing the flesh to the ice and the chill,

No thought or concern of why they are ill.

No wish to be called a sissy or wimp,

Better the naked stomach to crimp -

Hardly a sight to encourage the boys -

A ridiculous trend that a girl enjoys.

26th Jan ‘05


In this grave ten thousand lie,

Of Jews and Poles, they had to die –

Ten thousand graves of thousands more,

Six million was the final score.

The world has witnessed genocide,

For some the world has sadly died –

Survivors came to see this place,

With graves and memories hard to face.

The Belsen graves are wet with tears,

The mounds will last a thousand years,

All full of piles and piles of bones,

But souls will never turn to stones.

27th Jan ‘05


Britain is getting the Chevrolet,

Chevy for short, hurray, hurray -

An American favourite for fifty years,

Cheap and efficient, the model endears.

But gone are the days of a twenty foot long,

And guggling gas which went for a song -

Economy, safety, and price are the rage,

And size for the parking and watching the gauge.

Goodbye to the Daewoo, but made in Korea,

The Chevy Lacetti’s about to appear,

GM has arrived with the brand of its own,

With not very long before it is known.

28th Jan ‘05


We live in an age when we don’t want to walk,

And with tv and radio, not even to talk -

With computers and phones we have no need to write -

And we carry a card if the money is tight.

By making one call, they’ll deliver the food,

No need to go out if we’re not in the mood –

We can buy from a catalogue, no need for a shop,

And the Internet’s there for recording the pop,

And providing the knowledge and all kinds of news,

The weather and bargains to daily to peruse,

So apart from the need for going to work,

We can all stay at home to wallow and shirk.

29th Jan ‘05


The Elections have finally come to Iraq,

But there’s always a joker to play in the pack,

And Zarqawi is doing all that he can

To frighten the voters and hijack the plan.

The forces of reason just haven’t a chance

With each of the parties taking a stance

With violence and threats to pressure the vote

And suicide bombers their trade to promote.

Billions of dollars are pledged for a peace

But Iraq as a nation has only a lease,

Its natural wealth and land is for sale

To terrorist groups, should democracy fail.

30th Jan ‘05


Everyone ought to be seizing the day,

For life on earth is such a short stay.

A third of our life is spent fast asleep,

And another third lying around in a heap.

Time to be working the body and brain,

Keeping them healthy with knowledge to gain,

To be a good citizen, helping the weak,

The meaning of life in the world to seek.

Exploring the limits of action and trust,

Belief in the goodness of man a must,

Extolling the virtues of work till you drop,

Then after the day you are able to stop.

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1st Feb ‘05


Frilly French knickers and racy cut bra

Revealing the person you really are

But the problem is always that’s nothing revealed,

When everything under is sadly concealed.

Fanciful feathery fashions are fine,

Designed for the dollybird, diva divine,

In satin or cotton, nylon or lace,

Flimsy bits kept with elastic in place.

A man and a woman have fantasy thoughts

But what is inside the sweater and shorts?

Hundreds of pounds are spent in a year

But not in the light of day to appear.

2nd Feb ‘05


Michael Jackson is top of the news -

A trial by the Media which couldn’t refuse

A sensational story before he is tried -

Who on this earth is allowed to decide?

A prodigy child of the song and the dance,

A world of admirers was left in a trance.

A magnificent mover and singer supreme,

A career of a lifetime, a champion’s dream.

A lover of children, accused of abuse –

What will the public and jury deduce?

But parading his millions in innocent white

With impressions of grandeur, will only incite.

3rd Feb ‘05


‘Gangsters and bribers, brigands and muggers’

Thus Kinnock described the House of Lords.

With a bitter dislike for the Tory buggers,

Preferring to pander to socialist hordes.

He was living in Brussels and lining his pocket,

And waving the flag for his paymaster mates.

If you’re joining a club, you don’t want to knock it,

So why should the lords have to open the gates?

He said of the Lords that he wasn’t persuaded

But lo and behold he has changed his mind.

With a hypocrite now the House is pervaded,

But how many friends is he able to find?

4th Feb ‘05


To clobber your burglar, you must follow the course

Prescribed by the Government on the using of force,

By having the leaflet at hand by your bed,

To read when you hear that ominous tread.

‘Reasonable force’ is the key to it all –

Just enough power to cause him to fall –

A nice little pat with a poker or bat,

Exerting restraint on the devilish rat.

Then call the police with your foot on his head,

Be gentle or else he might sue you instead.

Ignore the adrenalin pumping away,

No anger, revenge - just calm on the day!

5th Feb ‘05


One million pounds in profit a day

Shell has announced with a massive hooray

But so does the government relish the news

As number one payer of taxable dues.

Shell and BP work the North Sea Oil

With billions of barrels to bubble and boil –

The blood of economies, priming the pump –

Cut the supply and you’ll witness a slump.

Britain’s no longer so self sufficient –

An island alone in danger, deficient –

It has to pay homage to Shell and BP

To retain and secure its prosperity.

6th Feb ‘05


Six nations are poised for this annual event

With nationalist mania their favour to vent –

A rugby spectacular, pitting their strengths,

Prepared to resort to incredible lengths.

A matter of history, battles of old,

Nations in conflict, the children were told.

“We a re the greatest”, everyone chants

Whipping each other into a trance.

The Welsh beat the English, a victory sweet,

The Celts driving Saxons into retreat,

The French beat the Scots in a dubious win,

And Italy threatened the Irish chin.

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