Day Ninety

February 28, 2010

I tried to walk along the pier
Against the strong and icy blast
The wind possessed such force and strength
That I could not go very fast.

A man was closing up his stall
As he could only make a loss.
The few who braved the rain and gusts
Had shunned his sticks of candy floss.

I looked towards the ageing deck
The sea looked angry through the crack
I heard the pier deftly creak
As freezing rain poured down my back.

At the end, my wife was standing
In her bathing suit, alone.
I wrapped her in a coat and blanket,
Held her tight and took her home.

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Day Eighty-Nine

February 27, 2010

Whilst celebrating Father’s Day
Once dinner plates were cleared away
My father pondered a selection
Of his alcohol collection.

‘That was quite a splendid meal
Now how would everybody feel
About a glass or two of port?
It’s up to you; it’s just a thought.’

‘I’m okay’ my mother said
‘I don’t think I’ll be long to bed’
My brother shook his head whilst yawning:
‘I’ve a meeting in the morning’.

My father said ‘Perhaps you’re right,
We all could use an early night.’
One by one they stood and left
I sat in darkness, port bereft.

Day Eighty-Eight

February 26, 2010

Dear BBC
It’s me.
Hello.
I know
At times
That times
Seem tight
Alright
But
The cuts
You say
Will pay
For Hotter Than My Daughter
Are shite.

6Music.
Don’t lose it.

Day Eighty-Seven

February 25, 2010

Early on a winter’s day
The thing I like the most
Is a tin of plum tomatoes
Served on lightly buttered toast.

Heat them gently on the hob
To help retain the flavour
A tainted tom will greet the tongue
Of tawdry microwaver.

The brand of fruit to purchase
Has been fiercely debated
But a taste test has been organised
So each tin can be rated.

At first I was a sceptic
That no longer is the case
Tis a warm and dubious pleasure
Dribbling juices down one’s face.

Day Eighty-Six

February 24, 2010

When I was in my teens
I was exceptionally wary
Of the battle with my peers
To be particularly hairy.

I had other signs of teenage life
Like uninvited zits
But I didn’t seem to have much growth
Upon my chest and pits.

Belatedly I sprouted
And I left my hairless hell
Though to this day I cannot
Grow a beard very well.

It’s taken me so long
To get this hairy, and it gauls
That in modern times the done thing
Is to shave or wax your balls.

Day Eighty-Five

February 23, 2010

I would not have thought
It was particularly sinister
To find yourself assaulted
By a slightly cross Prime Minister.

He’s waited years and years
To get to where he is today
It’s no surprise he punches
People getting in his way.

He’s standing at the helm
Of the political machine
So the only person therefore
Who can hit him is The Queen.

If he carries on the bullying
And people keep complaining
He’ll be summoned to the palace
For a brutal royal caning.

Day Eighty-Four

February 22, 2010

One summer, several years ago
Relaxing on my patio
Basting under oil and lotion
My peace was shattered by commotion.

With stealth I slithered from my seat
And slid my flip-flops on my feet
I tiptoed to my neighbour’s fence
To spy the source of the offence.

Peering through the slender gap
I saw a dog and portly chap
The man was looking quite forlorn
Whilst Mr Doggy trimmed the lawn.

The man yelled out a barking call
And gestured at a tennis ball
The dog said ‘No, you’ve had your fun
I have to get this mowing done’.

Day Eighty-Three

February 21, 2010

Many years ago I thought
I’d like to be an astronaut
But feared that on a floating probe
I might become a claustrophobe.

Then I thought that I might deem
To drive an engine powered by steam
But that was just nostalgic craze
They’re mostly diesel nowadays.

With fondness of the family pet
I thought I might become a vet
But consequently disapproved
When kitty had his balls removed.

Now, though finance ever tighter
I think I’d like to be a writer
But til my labours bear some fruit
I’m working as a prostitute.

Day Eighty-Two

February 20, 2010

When I was young I thought it best
To try and pass my driving test
One reason good as any other
The threat of teasing from my brother.

He would often let me know
How he had passed some years ago
Although I thought that rather tough
As I had not been old enough.

To demonstrate that I was keen
As soon as I’d turned seventeen
I looked within the Yellow Pages
To find a course to suit my wages.

Every weekend I would drive
A rusty Peugeot 205
I passed my test with little quibbling
Then drove towards a certain sibling.

Day Eighty-One

February 19, 2010

Drop some oil in a pan
Virgin olive if you can
Poncey oil helps people viewing
Think that I know what I’m doing.

As I’m not a kitchen prince
I use the cheapest frozen mince
With source of pork or beef implied
Although that can’t be verified.

Stir it round until you think
The mince no longer looks too pink
Then add some seasoning to suit
And cheap Dolmio substitute.

Simmer for a while ignoring
Guidelines if it gets too boring
Serve with pasta then bemoan
That mother kicked you out of home.