A Mew From The Bridge

While stood on the canal bridge,
I found I’d hit a snag.
I’d brought the bricks and kittens,
But not the bloody bag.
But I’m a big ideas man,
I think outside the box.
My improvised solution?
I did it with my socks.

A Man Carrying Lots Of Drugs Goes To A Club

My heart beats loud as thunder as I step towards the door.
I’d not known when to stop and I’d just kept on adding more.
My left front trouser pocket houses several bags of smack.
There’s pipes inside my jacket, and a lighter, and some crack.
There’s amyl and some methadone concealed within my shoes,
My sports bag houses several cans of nitrous and some booze.
There’s opium, diazepam and mushrooms in my case,
As well as pills so strong they’d get a rhino off his face.
A little bit of ketamine is hidden in my sock,
As well as just a tad more crack, one supplementary rock.
My underpants contain a bag that’s filled with coke and acid,
As well as some Viagras if things get a little flaccid.
There’s Xanax, ether, mescaline and weed taped to my thighs
(The ether was a freebie, which was quite a nice surprise).
The sniffer dogs start barking and the bouncers do as well.
It seems I haven’t really thought this through. Oh, bloody hell.
The coppers get involved, it seems my night is at an end,
Until I try “These aren’t my clothes, I nicked them off my friend”.
As desperate fake excuses go, this one seems doomed to fail,
But then they let me go and Dave my flatmate goes to jail.

Kebabs Make Me Glad

When I feel depressed, and I’m lonely and sad,
I have a kebab, for kebabs make me glad.
When I’ve had a fight with my mum or my dad,
I have a kebab, for kebabs make me glad.
When I’ve behaved poorly and feel pretty bad,
I have a kebab, for kebabs make me glad.
When I’m feeling cold as I’m scantily-clad,
I have a kebab, for kebabs make me glad.
When I wish that I was a lass not a lad,
I have a kebab, for kebabs make me glad.
When gender confusion is driving me mad,
I have a kebab, for kebabs make me glad.

Playing Scrabble On A Crashing Airliner

The engines failed, we’re falling, it seems we’re pretty stuck,
Unless we land on something soft or have a stroke of luck.
Me and Sean stay focused in our comfy first-class seating,
One board, two racks, a dictionary to make sure no-one’s cheating.
The set we’ve got’s magnetic, which is handy in this panic,
As everybody runs around us, screaming, giddy, manic.
The scores are tied, no letters left, it could go either way,
I’m working out how best to use my eight-points-earning J.
Sean has got the Z to use, there’s several willing Os
And Z O is permissable, though I’m not sure Sean knows.
There’s seconds left. He places down his letter on the board.
Oz. It’s not a word, although the Z is triple-scored.
I stare, debating whether I should challenge this and win –
We’ve got the book here with us that that word is not within.
“You’ve won” I say, and take his hand. I’ve given him the game.
Although he cheats at Scrabble, he’s my brother just the same.

The Milliner Lifestyle

The world’s full of beautiful wonder,
But nothing approaches, to me,
The beauty and Godlike perfection
Of the science of millinery.
A head is a daft-looking object;
There’s nothing as nice as a hat.
You cover up one with the other,
And what could be simpler than that?
An engineer’s cap or a hard-hat –
To me these are simply divine,
As are garrison hats and fedoras,
And a deerstalker always looks fine.
I’ll always speak up for the newsboy,
No matter what anyone says,
I’ve got quite a thing for a Homburg,
And feel faint when I’m faced with a fez.
I do love a good balaclava,
A bowler or Busby or boater,
A beanie, a bearskin, a beret –
They really put fuel in my motor.
A topper, a tricorn, a trilby,
A shako, sombrero or snood,
A Panama, porkpie or pillbox
Elates me and raises my mood.
I’ve always got time for toreros,
And I like the zucherro and turban.
But I’m not really fond of the do-rag –
I find it a little too “urban”.

The Unmasking Of Uncle Batman

You’d sit and regale me with tale after tale
Of adventures you’d had in the past.
The stories you told of the brave and the bold
Would leave me in awe and aghast.
“Tell me one more, Uncle Batman” I’d roar,
And you’d try to be modest and blush,
Pretending I’d rather your brother (my father)
Had kept who you were all hush-hush.
But I really must mention, you loved the attention
As you told me the tales of your capers.
Til I, like a fool, showed off too much in school,
And your name got in all of the papers.
The media freaked, as I sort of had leaked
The discovery you’d so far escaped,
And I was to blame, and they all knew your name –
The Crusader was rendered un-caped.

Jim Wins

Jim’s very handsome, I’m not so much,
I’m pretty awkward, Jim’s not as such.
Jim’s got some mucles, I’m pretty weak.
Jim’s really confident, I barely speak.
I got some biros, Jim learned to paint.
I had my stomach pumped, Jim showed restraint.
Jim wins at everything, I tend to fail.
I hugged a dolphin, Jim shagged a whale.

Suburban Superhero

I can see in the dark.
So can you, with a torch.
It’s a power of which I don’t boast.

I shoot flames from my eyes
But we’ve got smoke alarms
So I can’t even use it for toast.

I possess super strength
But when people find out
They all make me carry their stuff.

I can run really fast
But I don’t see the point
As the train seems efficient enough.

My skin deflects bullets
Although, let’s be fair,
There’s not many shootings round here.

And my super-strong breath
Only really gets used
In the autumn, to keep the drive clear.

I can see straight through walls
Though I generally find
Walking round doesn’t take very long.

There’s a big one-way system
On the roads around here,
And I keep bloody getting it wrong.

Pythagoras

Mathity mothity,
Mister Pythagoras
Fiddled with angles,
Invented a rule.
Now you can simply work
Out the hypotenuse,
Circomlocuting
Appearing a fool.

Henry The Be-Tailed Tech Support Man

Next time there’s an IT bloke adjusting your machine,
Perhaps he’s got a little secret no-one’s ever seen.
I’ve got a small vestigial tail, though rarely get it out.
It damages my self-esteem and makes me live in doubt.
I’m awesome with computers, and I’m great when on the phone,
But worry that my tail will mean I’m bound to die alone.
So when I’m fixing settings or installing people’s browsers,
I keep my tail concealed beneath my baggy khaki trousers.