Category Archives: Humour

The Seven Dreaded Bins

Humour Leave a comment

You can hear the whole street cursing
as the weekly chore begins –
yes, once again it’s time to face
the seven dreaded bins.

First the green bin for the food waste,
tough enough to foil a fox –
but the leaky liner leaves a trail
that’s sticky as a slug’s.

The brown bin holds the garden waste
though it’s really much too big –
you can scarcely wheel the damn thing
once it’s full of grass and twigs.

The cardboard sack’s like raffia
so, once emptied of its load,
it fills with air and, billowing,
sails off along the road.

The paper sack was weighted
with a nifty strip of lead –
sadly, most of those got stolen,
and sold for scrap instead!

Next, the tub for glass and metal,
with black lid to hide the beers
(but, bad news for alcoholics –
the lid always disappears).

The plastic bag is cumbersome,
(though the plastic bottles are light).
It looks like some alien egg sack
when you drag it out at night.

Last, the black bin – it’s enormous!
You could fit a whole body in there.
Once you’ve recycled everything else
this bin should have room to spare.

Now they’re slumped like weary soldiers
(slightly soiled around the rims)
but they’re trying to save the planet –
the seven dreaded bins.

The Pissed Off Princess

Humour Leave a comment

Once upon a time
there was a princess.
She was pissed off
’cause her life was a mess.

Her prince had run off
taking all of their cash.
She’d lost her job
and gone on the lash,

drowning her sorrows
in gallons of booze
and running up debts
buying beautiful shoes,

ignoring her friends
and family and all
till her godmother said
“You shall go to the ball!”

(Godmother was human
not some sort of fairy –
but she was quite eccentric
and could be a bit lairy.)

So she dressed the princess
in a second-hand gown,
took her to a club
in the rough part of town.

The princess met a bad boy
who shagged her rotten
and, for a while,
all her cares were forgotten.

(Godmother got off with
the nightclub owner –
a man who’d been begging
for ages to bone her.)

The princess’s temper
was greatly improved –
getting laid really changed
her entire attitude.

So she dumped the bad boy
(though he didn’t care),
lost some weight
and dyed her hair.

She found a new job,
moved somewhere nice
and always took heed
of Godmother’s advice:

“No more joint accounts –
you’re bound to regret it.
And, godmothers rock!
Don’t ever forget it.”

Twinkle-toes

Humour 2 Comments

I’ll tell you a secret
that no-one else knows –
beneath my desk
I’ve got twinkle-toes!

The office dress code
says sensible shoes –
so my toenails rebel
with outrageous hues:

Sparkling Garbage,
Space Cadet,
Bubble Bombshell,
Lawless Red,

Devil May Care,
Flawless Flush,
Purple Poodle,
and Lucky Duck.

So, my job may be dull,
but my toenails are bright –
I wonder which colour
I’ll paint them tonight?

Eating The Animal Kingdom

Humour 4 Comments

I’m eating the animal kingdom –
alphabetically!
It’s taken a while for me to compile
my edible bestiary.

I’ll have alligator to start with
(will it taste like chicken, or fish?)
A slice of bison would be quite nice, and
then caribou – simply delish!

Some dogfish fresh fried from the chip shop,
a pot of jellied eels,
then maybe some frogs’ legs might hit the spot –
I’ll just have to see how I feel.

Then I could gobble up goose pâté,
wash it down with jugged hare.
Impala steak will be next on the plate,
delicious cooked lovely and rare.

Oh, jellyfish can be chewy (yuck!)
Kangaroo can be too –
but I’m rather keen on lamb, if it’s lean,
and I really enjoy moose stew.

I’ll nibble next on a nautilus,
try ostrich, in a bun.
The taste of pheasant is very pleasant
and quail, though quite small, can be fun.

Rabbit ragu vanished rapidly
(almost scampered away).
I wouldn’t want seal for every meal,
but turkey is more than OK.

I want to try hedgehog cooked in clay –
called urchin, years ago.
Then some venison (sorry, Bambi’s mum –
the yummiest mummy I know!)

Wild boar is a tasty W
but X has set me back –
it’s hard to feast on an extinct beast,
but if I can’t get yeti, there’s yak.

So now I’ve nearly reached the end
of my animal repast.
Just wait a sec for it all to digest –
I’ll save the zebra till last!

Hat Virgin

Humour Leave a comment

The virgin at the wedding,
I never thought that would be me.
But no, I’m not the blushing bride –
I’m the mother-in-law to be.

“A virgin mother?” I hear you say,
“What sort of a riddle is that?”
Listen now, and I’ll tell you –
It’s my first time – wearing a hat.

I’ve never had a head for hats,
I’m a milliner’s despair!
I haven’t got a hat face –
And I don’t want to squash my hair.

A trilby doesn’t thrill me,
A pillbox hat is too small.
And as for those Ascot atrocities –
Veils don’t suit me at all!

But I don’t like fascinators,
They’re for those who won’t commit
To either hat or headband –
And the darn thing wouldn’t sit!

So I settled on a broad-brimmed hat.
I thought I’d look a fool,
But while others swelter in the sun,
Here in the shade – I’m cool.

Pens Envy

Humour, Rants Leave a comment

I’ve been buying Bic Cristal for years now
(love the smooth flowing, quick drying ink),
but after seeing Bic Cristal ‘for her’
I might have to have a rethink.

Packaged like a lady’s razor – and
oh look, the barrel’s thinner.
(Like normal pens have too much girth
for fragile female fingers!)

And so what if they’re coloured
pastel shades, of purple, pink?
Inside it’s still the very same –
plain, black, swarthy ink.

I don’t suffer from pens envy.
I don’t need a ‘feminine’ pen.
It’s what I write that matters –
not the means, but the end.

Accidental Erotica

Humour Leave a comment

I tried to write a nature poem
full of the joys of spring –
maybe about some birds and bees,
reflections on a wing.
But then – oh dear! What’s happened here?!
That wasn’t what I meant –
accidental erotica
is dropping from my pen!

I thought I’d try to play it safe
and write of scenery.
I started to describe a wave,
foam covering a beach.
But then a naughty metaphor
reveals my real intent –
accidental erotica
is dropping from my pen!

For English is a language rich
with words that turn away,
and suddenly say something else
than what you thought you’d say.
This rarely happens when I write,
but every now and then –
accidental erotica
is dropping from my pen!

I guess I’ll have to face the fact
my mind is filled with filth.
I may have been raised Catholic
but I’m not wracked with guilt.
Instead of trying to fight it,
I’ll embrace it as a friend –
accidental erotica,
keep dropping from my pen!

Superstition

Humour Leave a comment

Superstition is a sin,
Catholicism said.
(But new shoes on a table
filled my Irish mam with dread.)

No, don’t believe in omens,
or in hexes, or a curse.
(Don’t forget to cross yourself
if you should see a hearse.)

Horoscopes are nonsense –
only God knows what’s in store.
(You can tell a man is coming
if a knife falls to the floor.)

Tea is just for drinking now,
don’t try to read the leaves.
(Folded sheets foretell a death
if there’s a diamond crease.)

Never play with Ouija boards,
not even for a lark.
(Never open up your door
if a knock’s heard after dark.)

This is the only life we’ll have –
of that, the church is sure.
(My mam told me the midwife said
that I’d been here before.)

No, we’re not superstitious –
we haven’t been for years.
(Though everybody knows that it’s
your first child gets your fears.)

Spock Baby

Humour Leave a comment

I was raised a Spock baby
in more ways than one
and a certain confusion
was due to my mum.

“Baby and Childcare”
was her well-thumbed bible –
but Benjamin Spock
had an alien rival.

My mum also loved sci-fi
– a trait I share too –
I grew up watching Star Trek
and (my favourite) Doctor Who.

Mum mentioned Spock so often
I began to think that maybe
her handbook was some Vulcan guide
meant to confuse a baby.

For Dr Spock advised that love
should always be expressed,
while Mr Spock thought all emotion
ought to be repressed.

So to this day I’m fond of men
with emotions under control,
a slight tilt to the eyebrows,
and the haircut? Pudding bowl!