UK General Election 

Care instructions: colour wash on 60
Now all the campaigning is done,

And our parliament is hung,

Like washing hung on a line,

It will be ready with time,

But it needed a spin cos it was dirty,

And everyone was getting a bit shirty,

It’s all that naughty running through fields,

So guess what our new parliament yields?

Not the white-wash many were expecting,

And now it needs a little correcting,

We left a red sock in and it’s all gone pink,

New labour colour Jeremy? – nudge nudge wink.

Towel Day (❤️ Douglas Adams)


That’s 25th May,

Is officially known as Towel Day,

No put those sanitary items away,

So pay attention strags and hitchikers alike,

Because strags are just people who dream of hitching a hike,

You know the things you use to mop up sweat,

Or what you’d carry a dead cat in to the vet,

Somethingwith which you can lie on the beaches of Santraginus V,

And imagine all the stars you’d see,

Sleeping under your towel on Kakrafoon,

So a towel is massively useful – more so than a spoon,

Although you may become a spoon when using the improbability drive,

Don’t we all wish that blue whale was still alive,

But spoons and whales cannot compare,

To that thing you use to dry your hair,

As Adams worshippers go if you are devout,

You will ensure you are never without,

But sometimes needs must and you need to keep it small,

And surely any towel is better than no towel at all?

New York New York

I went to see New York to see a hottie,

But going there made me a bit snotty,

I did go for fun,

Not just for the sun,

There was still snow and it was icy cold,

But as soon as I saw Times Square I was sold,

What a dazzling place,

Bright lights in your face,

And pick pockets galore,

Gentlemen hold on to your wallet not a door,

The comedy was great,

The locals were irate,

But we had to learn how to tip,

And jet lag meant we had to kip,

I even got a tattoo,

After signing a waver that I wouldn’t sue,

I got a little heart done on my ribs,

No im not telling fibs,

As for pain it was actually fine,

But who is this hottie of mine,

It’s a lady I’ve always wanted to meet,

She stands at 3,700 feet,

Yes for me she’s a little tall,

It’s a long way to fall,

But she’s as steady as a rock,

It would take a lot to rock,

The rather snazzy Statue of Liberty,

She stands for the free,

I love her sense of style too,

All matching in greeny blue,

Piercing the sky,

Her torch held on high,

She been holding that pose for years,

She’s a proper Yogi – I’d be in tears,

When it comes to stretching she’s the King,

That commitment – 188 years working in a bingo wing.

Fat rolls 

I’m not talking bacon butties I mean the bits around your middle,

That make us uncomfortable in certain tops so we fiddle,

Pulling our T-shirts this way and that,

So it’s more flattering and we don’t feel fat,

But who really cares – why do we do it?

Most of us wish we were healthier and fit,

Everyone hides bits they’d rather weren’t there,

Would it be the worst if people were to stare,

Maybe they love our knees, or our shoulders or our middle,

It’s not like you can buy a new one at Lidyl,

Maybe what we’ve got is cool and different and us,

Unless you have a blister that’s infected and bursting with pus,

That sh*t needs to be seen to and it don’t let it define you,

And it’s probably what’s giving you that infected green hue,

Anyway – maybe I should love my face and all of my chins,

Maybe I shouldn’t be worried about my weird shins, 

And my actually fat rolls are insulating and handy,

When I’m hiding pens or tampons or candy.

Short mess

I just got my hair cut short,

I can no longer hide behind my hairy fort,

My face is now free for all to see,

Which means I need to cover up my spots,

But short hair on others gives me the hots,

Alas, now I’ve nothing to swing,

To headbang and ting,

Not that I do that anyway much,

There’s also less to touch,

“Why did you do it then?” you cry,

And I will tell you why,

I was mainly avoiding doing work,

So I decided to lurk,

In town,

And to flip my frown,

I thought I’d get a treat,

I’d already had something to eat,

My the hairdressers was next door,

And all that stranger’s hair on the floor,

Coaxed me in,

The price I paid was a sin,

But it’s always nice to have a posh preen,

And my face really needed a spring clean.

Too windy

Gosh it’s been a windy week,

Storm Doris is battering London as we speak,

I also had a photo shoot yesterday,

And so my hair didn’t get in the way,

We had a wind machine – which is my new favourite thing,

It makes me want to twirl and sing,

It’s quite 1950’s musical I’m sure you’ll agree,

The effect will be great on my poster you see,

I’m going for the pilot look – mid flight,

Because a female pilot in 1920 was a sight,

That’s what my show is about this year,

But with Storm Doris so near,

I wondered if my photographer had left the wind machine on,

And the whole of London is now wrapped up in its song,

I could hardly walk down the street with its force,

This wind is stronger than a Grand National horse,

It gets bits in your eyes and chills you to the bone,

So not quite the 1950’s musical zone,

In other news I’ve eaten a lot of cheese,

I’m intolerant but it’s not like it makes me sneeze,

Let’s just say Storm Doris isn’t the only one creating a breeze!