Science Fiction

Silver’s made from carbon.
Nitrogen is rare.
Trees are formed from concrete.
Horses can’t breathe air.
Gravity is magic.
Blood is made from glass.
Germans have no molecules.
Wee comes out your arse.

Fantastic Voyage

Everything had gone to plan,
We’d shrank the clever rocket.
But then it all went awful
When I put it in my pocket.

The Adventures Of Zakk Wow

MONDAY
You’d think that, with a name like this, I’d hang around in space.
Instead I’m in a chip shop with a grimace on my face.

TUESDAY
I should be from the future and be pissing round with rockets,
But I’m buying an extension lead – my house has fuck-all sockets.

WEDNESDAY
I should be fighting aliens, traversing space and time,
Instead I’m doing washing up, as nobody likes grime.

THURSDAY
I should be crossing black holes from dimension to dimension.
Instead I’m slightly balding due to inter-office tension.

FRIDAY
I should be finding worlds, and planting flags and naming planets.
I’ve got a worktop catalogue, I’m just up to the granites.

SATURDAY
I should be stopping overlords from leaving thousands dead.
Instead I’m all hungover and I’m eating eggs in bed.

SUNDAY
I should be killing monstrous things with futuristic rays.
Instead I’m sitting on my arse and watching Songs Of Praise.