Breakdance on the front lawn
They let it all hang out -
With all the kids around the street
Throwing themselves about.

Though it makes a mess of my front lawn
And the music is a din
Were it not for my rhumatics -
I’d sure be joining in!

Cake tins cringed, saucepans shrank
and shelves began to quake
Impending doom hung in the air
As she began to bake

Her mixer moaned obsecenities
while beating up the fat
It surely was a waste of time -
her cakes would all go flat.

Crosswords

Some are very hard -
and others quite easy.
But the one I am stuck on now
Is making me uneasy.

I’ve got to buy a present, mum
For Claire’s sixteenth birthday
But I’ve got to get it early
‘ case I have to go away

Isolation - Surrounded by "friends"
But nieghbours are fickle - and frienships soon end

Michael Bates

Michael is a silly boy
He ran away from school
I tried to reason with him
He cannot break the rules

But Stephen felt it was a waste
Of breath with Michael Bates
But I just want to try and help
Before it's too late

Rod the pilot - not quite a man
And more at home in air than land
Perpetual child, though growing old
He’s quite a bore - and very cold.

Ode to the passing of poet John Betjamin

The grand old man of poetry
Passed by this way today
He bid a fond farewell to all
And then went on his way

He soon approached the golden gates
They warmly took him in
To take his place beside the lord
And write poetry for him

Since our Linda gave up smoking
She’s become a little stout
With spare tires rolling everywhere
And bulges bursting out.

Was she ever, really, a size ten?
Or was it just a dream?
For the trousers that still fit
Are now bursting at the seams!

The blinds and curtains are pulled tight
When she disrobes at night
For when she lets it all hang out
It’s now a pretty sight.

So sorry to hear of your sad plight
Christmas must offer no chear.
For it's bad enough being stuck with your diet
But far worse to sacrifice beer.

But never mind, Rog, no need to despair
I'm sure you'll adjust, knowing you
For as we all raise our glasses up to the air
Your 'spirits' will get a lift too!

TERRY (SCOTT)

Sorry to hear you were under the weather,
Sincerely hope you are feeling better.
But sit yourself down and listen to this -
I’ve some advice to offer, you just must not miss.

So you woke up feeling wobbly and sick
Unable to take the boys to the shipv Those signs look ominous to me -
> Perhaps your PREGNANT Terry!

Never mind dear, don’t take it to heart,
Gerry will be pleased to claim maternity grant.
You’ll become famous - have your name in print
It’ll make your damn surgeon sit up and think!!

So unless you want all the neighbours to chat
(And believe me they will - I’ll see to that)
You’d better get up and bounce back to work
Or I might even tell them you’re trying to shirk!

Of course, I know a remedy that’s bound to cure
Badminton on Wednesday - you’ll LOVE it I’m sure!
Cold potato butties and rashers of pork
Don’t seem to agree, so just stick to…stork?
(I’m sorry I can’t find a better rhyme -
I thought and I thought and I ran out of time!)

And abstinence from sex is an absolute must
So you’ll sleep downstairs from now on I trust
Just remember - whenever you fancy a bit -
It isn’t worth it - it’ll just make you sick!!

I’m sure you feel better for reading this ditty
Because it’s so amazing clever and witty -
So come on Terry, let’s soon see you well
They’ll miss you at work for not giving them hell!

From Your Good-looking Neighbourv
P.S. Can I borrow a cup of sugar?







The mightmare after Windsor
I arrive home feeling knackered
A blazing row with Stephen
Then the slamming front door shattered

The Torry Party conference

The Brighton disaster
Will echo hereafter
In anals of plitical horror
As a minister's wife
Was just one who lost life
At the hands of the I.R.A. bomber

What religion or creed
Could concieve such a deed?
Can thier god, and mine, be the same?
For the carnage they wrought
At the south coast resort
Will be claimed to be done in his name

Oh Lord, hear my prayer
As I weep in despair
At the hideous act of a fewv misguided they live
I beg you forgive
For they surely no not what they do

POSTCARD FROM GREECE

The holiday so far’s an absolute wow
And I’d like to tell you about it somehow
The hotel itself is very remote
And the only excursions are trips on a boat
So all the fine trips that Id planned - I fear
Will probably have to wait ‘till next year!
But the hotel is gorgeous - the service is good -
And so far there’s not to much oil in the food!
The weather is perfect -not too hot, not to cool
And the sea is almost as warm as the pool.
We went for a boat trip to ‘paradise isle’
Then ate in a taverna in true Grecian style.
We’ve lazed in the sea - and baked in the sun
But so far we haven’t contracted the runs!!
And I’m being pursued by an amorous Greek
Who is young and good looking, with Apollo’s physique!
But although he is gorgeous - his approach is too quick
And I’m saving myself for my SUPER DICK!!
There’s nothing to do but sunbathe all day
Dear Lord, why should I suffer this way??
Yes I think I could take to this leisurely life -
When I think of Mag. Thatcher, the strikes and the strife.
So don’t be alarmed if I’m not back next week
I’ve not been absconded - I’m just staying Greek!!







The flab is fighting to be free
As lynne waddles about
But in the darkness of her room
She lets it all hang out.

'It's not me really - it's my clothes'
She nervously laughs.
But it's funny how she empties it
As she steps in the bath

So support the poor girl if you can
and help those in need
Her slim for Ethiopia
Is a worthy cause indeed






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