The past should always come to mind
when drinking fine champagne.
The light that ripened ancient grapes
will never shine again.
Each liquid sip can give a glimpse,
a taste, of time gone by –
a lot like archaeology
(but nothing like as dry).
I’ve got no time for Superdry
(that phoney Japanese!)
or brands of sportswear favoured by
the clinically obese.
When you choose some trendy labels
there’s just one guarantee –
that logo will increase the cost
but not the quality.
Hard-earned cash is handed over
by label-loving hordes,
then companies exploit them as
free advertising boards!
I don’t need ‘Juicy’ on my chest,
or ‘Bench’ across my butt,
for fashion’s fleeting – style endures!
Why be a label slut?
One afternoon, while I was watching Die Hard,
my cat began to act a tad peculiar.
She displayed no interest
in Bruce Willis in his vest –
no, only those scenes featuring Hans Gruber…
My pussy cat’s in love with Alan Rickman!
She watches him intently on the screen.
When he says “Mr Takagi”
it’s too much for my poor moggy
and she purrs like she’s the cat that got the cream.
Yes, my kitty’s got the hots for Alan Rickman –
to hear him speaking sends her quite ecstatic.
I’d love to ask that man
if he knows of feline fans,
for his voice acts as a form of aural catnip.
So, now I know my cat loves Alan Rickman,
we’ll have to watch more of his DVDs.
I’ll be careful which I choose –
heaven knows what she might do
if she ever got her paws on Prince of Thieves!
(with apologies to Gilbert & Sullivan)
At a desk with a laptop, a poor blogger sat
saying “Fodder, blog fodder, blog fodder…”
lamenting the terrible circumstance that
there’s no fodder, blog fodder, blog fodder.
“Lately no-one’s inspired me, or injured my pride,
and actual research is too hard – I’ve tried!
Oh, I’d write of my love life (if that hadn’t died)
for fodder, blog fodder, blog fodder.”
Sitting there at a desk in a state of despair
moaning “Fodder, blog fodder, blog fodder.”
Trying to pluck inspiration from out of thin air
crying “Fodder, blog fodder, blog fodder!”
Until sobbing and sighing becomes a routine,
then into the kitchen in search of caffeine –
while a hungry hum comes from the waiting machine
for fodder, blog fodder, blog fodder.
Now I feel just as sure as I’m sure that my name
isn’t fodder, blog fodder, blog fodder,
that thousands of bloggers have all felt the same
lack of fodder, blog fodder, blog fodder.
So if you remain flummoxed and desperate, I
suggest – turn on your TV (HBO or Sky),
and then watch Game of Thrones until somebody dies –
Yes! Fodder, blog fodder, blog fodder!