Tag Archives: #silly

The Faux Toe Shop

I woke up this morning

(da dada da da!)

and found that I only had nine toes!

Where, is it,

when a man is missing a toe,

where is it

that he goes?

Nobody knows.

So, for a toe,

I suggest

that there should be

a faux toe shop

where they can add on

the missing toe –

the one that has gone.

And, if, subsequently,

one happens to find

the missing digit,

you’ll have a spare

in hand (so to speak)

and won’t have to pay

the faux toe shop

a visit.

Tuesday is the new Monday, (or should that be Wednesday?)

Tuesday is here,

until it’s gone

(see Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Tuesday’s Gone’ for more on that last part),

and it followed closely on the heels of Monday

(see Shakespeare’s ‘Hamlet’ for more on that),

precursoring Wednesday

(precursoring is a made-up word)

and claiming to be ‘Hump Day’

(see a camel for details about ‘humps’).

So, should we worry about what the day is called,

or where it lays in the ‘seven’?

(or ‘eight’ – see The Beatles about ‘eight’).

Well, I may have a lot of questions;

but, answers?

What do you think?

New Directions

I travelled Back

and Forth,


and Vest,

all four of the new directions.

From the top

travelling clockwise:


Back Vest


… and a new Acronym

for you to remember these, is:





So, now, you can eat

Shredded Wheat.

NB other breakfast cereals are available.

PS the Albert Hitchcock / Eric Lehman film ‘Forth by Forthvest’is an old favourite of mine.

There’s not a single thing level in my garden everything is fitted with a slant I tried to build things straight had too much on my plate and I must admit that sometimes I can’t be bothered.

As per the title. G:)

Sofas Away From Me

Keep your furniture at a distance,

I cannot cope with their persistence,

I cannot keep my sanity

when your mirrors test my fragile vanity;

and chairs, chaise longs, foot stalls,

all want to hound me to my grave,

please keep your sofas away from me,

my delicate mind I want to save.

“Mr. Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Third!”

“Mr. Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Third! “Mr. Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Third!”

“What is it, woman?”

“It’s your son, “Mr. Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Third!”

“What, Robert Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Fourth?”

“No. Your other son!”

“What. Anthony Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Unnumbered?”

“Yes – the very same.”

“What has happened to my other son, Anthony Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives the Unnumbered?”

“He’s sprained his wrist signing a cheque.”

“Ah, the old Gilicuddy-Languish Throckmorton-Thives curse has struck again.”

Queens June I – V (inclusive)

Queen June I only rained for a single day; her daughter, Queen June II, with her sunny disposition didn’t last any longer;

the adorably quaint Queen June III and the tempestuous Queen June IV followed on in quick succession; Queen June V, who many hoped would bring some stability to the kingdom, lasted barely twenty-four hours…

… and on it went.

Stop Chasing Butterflies

Stop chasing butterflies,

and don’t go chasing waterfalls,

or parked cars.

Don’t go writing non-haiku,

or sub-standard sonnets,

as you tend to.

Don’t go

and then return

because you can.

And never start a sentence

with a premonition –

the grammaticians hate that.

Most of all,



I found a mag

in my pie –

I don’t know how it got there,

I fail to know the reason why,

that, on such a day as this,

there is a mag

within my pie.

I am not a man (with a master plan).

I am not a man

with a master plan;

I don’t have the ability

to push a pram –

I don’t have a pram.

Even if I did have a pram

I would be loathe to push

a pram

with no occupant…

what sort of weirdly strange person

do you think I am?

Oh, that sort;

well, that’s fair enough, then.