Speccie Any Questions
 

Bazza and Chris O'Carroll quite up to their usual standards and Bill Greenwell undoubtedly would have been had he not disqualified himself, presumably on the contemporary issue.

The new competition ought to have its moments. I cannot see any home advantage, as it were, so get weaving, all you Yanks and Aussies.

No. 2707: any questions
‘To ______ or not to ______, That is the question...’ Please fill in the blanks as you choose and continue for up to a further 15 lines. Email entries, if possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 27 July.

Question

To think or not to think, that is the question.
But every question doesn’t have an answer.
If I may be permitted the suggestion:
Too much anxiety can give you cancer.

Best cultivate a calm, uncluttered mind.
Don’t read the papers and avoid all news
On radio or TV. I think you’ll find
Life runs more smoothly if you don’t have views.

The Middle-Eastern crisis? Don’t ask me, mate.
And Climate Change? I haven’t got a clue.
Likewise the Euro and the British rebate
Or is it opt-out? Long ago I knew.

My general ignorance is just the ticket
For all discussions on the Wealth of Nations.
I’ll eat and drink and smoke and watch the cricket
And leave it to the coming generations.

In depth discussions with my life-trainer, a Mr Gwynn, reveal this new version.


Question

To think or not to think, that is the question.
But every question doesn’t have an answer.
If I may be permitted one suggestion:
Too much anxiety can give you cancer.

Best cultivate a calm, uncluttered mind now.
Don’t read the papers, shun all broadcast news
And never argue politics. You’ll find how
Life runs more smoothly if you don’t have views.

Opinions on the Middle-East. Not me, mate?
World Climate Change? I haven’t got a clue.
Likewise the Euro and the British rebate.
Or is it opt-out? Long ago I knew.

My general ignorance is just the ticket
For all discussions on the Wealth of Nations.
I’ll eat and drink and smoke and watch the cricket
And leave it to the coming generations.

To tweet or not to tweet--
Sure, it's quick and revenge is sweet,
But when the world is changing
By the hour,
What was tweet may quickly sour.

To eat or not to eat, that is the question.
Whether 'tis better to opt for ingestion
Or to take arms against stuffing my craw
Like the hungriest pig that the world ever saw,
And by refraining, drop a ton,
And then perchance, when I am done,
Comfortably fit in my bathroom tub?
But what if I starve to death? There's the rub!
For in that pause from eating I
Might miss my vitamins and die,
Not corpulent, perhaps, but still
A corpse that did not eat its fill,
A fate so bad it can't compare to
The jiggly paunch my flesh is heir to.
To eat or not? I'll answer when you
Kindly bring the dinner menu.

To pee or not to pee, that is the question.
Whether 'tis better in the mind to suffer
The stink and squalor of outageous restrooms
Or to hold it in as best we can until
We make it home to where it's warm and clean.
Pee now -- and by this pee to say we end
The groin-ache, and the thousand bladder pains
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To pee, to rest --
To rest -- to wash our hands: ay, there's the rub,
For in this dirty restroom lacking soap,
Where water's but a trickle, and is cold,
Who would not pause?. There's the respect
That makes calamity of peeing now,
And thus the native hue or urination
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought.

Did you know that his doctor advised the Emperor Claudius never to suppress a fart because it is damaging to health?

To fart or not to fart, that is the question...

Not that most men appear to give it a thought.

When you're the emperor, you don't have to suppress farts. At least not your own.


But here's a fart one.

TO FART


To fart, or not to fart. That is the question
pondered by every deep thinker
troubled in public by bad indigestion
and tempted to let loose a stinker,

or maybe not one, but a trumpeting medley,
the kind that makes all look askance.
The compromise? Make it a 'silent but deadly,'
Then go home and launder your pants.

To fart or not to fart
That is the question.
Better to fart apart
Is my suggestion.

Break wind if wind must break,
In chaste seclusion,
For everybody’s sake.
It’s pure illusion

To think a fart with friends
Just doesn’t matter.
You cannot make amends
For anal chatter.

Your bum becomes a bore.
Take my advice
Don’t do it any more.
It isn’t nice

To tweet or not to tweet, that is the question,
About one’s current spell of indigestion.
Please get a life–my personal suggestion.

To Facebook post--that is another quandary--
About one’s many loads of folded laundry
Is no advertisement for polyandry.

To email? Ah, the hastiness of email!
Should one respond to that Ukrainian female
(Who may in fact turn out to be a she-male)?

Answer a voice-mail message? Do you really
Want a long, boring chat with someone silly
Like Auntie Nell or awful Cousin Willie?

Respond to letters? That is from some lost age.
Besides, the practice may well make you hostage
To pen and paper, envelopes and postage.

They're all great, but I love Whitty's post #8.