Tag Archives: humour

The Comment heading towards the planet Earth at upwards of a thousand miles per second

The Comment, similar in size and shape to the one that ended the era of the Dinosaurs, headed towards the planet Earth at a considerable speed; and, even though sound can’t actually travel through space – as it’s a void – you must just suspend your disbelief for a moment and consider that science has got it wrong (even though it hasn’t) and this concept is a possibility.

What the actual Comment consists of is not known – largely due to the absence of detail available – and so it will inevitably disappoint.

Isn’t Science wonderful?

100m Butterfly

I went to the Olympics,

in search of this very long (and rare) species;

but, like all the other Lepidopterists there,

was sadly disappointed to find

that I had been blind

to the reality of the term.

Anyway, I’m off now to guess

the age of the dress event.

As I was going to…

And you thought I wouldn’t go there…


As I was going to…

St. Ive

I thought,


when I get there

I’ll never leave;

but, who’s to say

whether I’ll stay,

I change my mind

most every day –

as is my wont –

so who’d be surprised,

if maybe I don’t.

By a sad twist of fate…

By a sad twist of fate…

By a sad twist of fate, when Sea Mud was Christened, his chosen name of ‘Seamus’ was poorly written, by the slightly sober priest, as one ‘Sea Mud, son of Kat Twine and Bran Bin O’Really. Generations of O’Reallys, O’Cow Bells, Mac Hines, and the like, had passed through St. Praticks on their way to lives filled with strange looks at bank counters, questioning glances at border crossings, and numerous persnickety questions at a number of official premises – all of which were later followed by the gaiety of Gaelic laughter in local alehouses – at Sea Mud’s, and the others, expense.

The Multipack Song

The Multipack Song

Sometimes you just see words written down somewhere and they jump out at you in a perfectly formed song…. this is one example of that:

G. C. D

“Not to be sold separately,

G. C. G. C

Multipack, multipack;

G. C. D

Not to be sold separately,

G. C. G. C

Multipack, multipack,

D. C. G

Multi, multi, pack!!!”

“It’s not a poem!” you say.

“It’s not a poem!” you say.

“It’s not a poem!” you say.

“And who are you to say

that what I say

is not a poem?” I say.

You reply, “ I say, I say, I say…”

“What do you say you say you say?”

“I say, that it’s not a poem because it only has one rhyme, repeated lots – that’s what I say!”

I said nothing; he’d had his say,

I just wished he’d go away.

RAF Blues (2)

RAF Blues (2)

One morning, at an undisclosed RAF base located somewhere in Southern England, around about the year 1941

“Scrambled eggs at eleven o’clock!”

“Oh, Cookie, you are a one!”

“With toasty bandits?”

“Of course!” smiled Cookie. “No eggy soldiers for the boys in blue.”

“Isn’t that the police?” queried Corky.

“Okay, the boys in RAF blue!” corrected Cookie. “The boys that treasure correctness of detail over actual literal fluidity.”

“That’ll be us!” we all agreed.

“A seagull knocked upon my door the other day.”

“A seagull knocked upon my door the other day.”

A seagull knocked upon my door the other day,

“How did he do that?”

I hear you say,

“With his beak.” I reply, “He had no other way – not having knuckles.”

At this, the seagull chuckles;

I didn’t say,

that he went away.

“I protest!” (a song)

“I protest!” (a song)

Protest Songs!

I’ve written a few;

had a lot more of my songs

protested to;

Protest Songs!

I know I shouldn’t do

what people don’t want me to,

writing protest songs,

or any songs

at all.

‘I don’t want to be a full-time chair, I’d rather be an occasional table.’

‘I don’t want to be a full-time chair,

I’d rather be an occasional table.’

A job opportunity,

their country needs me,

I am the one

though I have a degree

of irreverence.

Not, that the situation ‘Vacant’ sign

upon the door

is not welcome;

it’s just that I won’t be taken seriously,

if I can’t take it seriously,

the job they’re offering me.