[Peter Goulding]

Originally Posted by Brian Allgar

Oh God! I’ve started peeing red!
I’m quivering with fear and dread.
In next to no time, I’ll be dead
xxxFrom cancer of the bladder.
Or even worse, the thing will spread
Like bindweed in my flower-bed
To kidneys, liver, lungs and head,
xxxA fate that’s even sadder.

I’m in a clinic by the Thames.
Is it a verdict that condemns,
Or is there hope with beastly chems?
xxxIf there’s a chance, I’ll try it.
But then, with sniggers and “ahem”s,
They come to tell me: “Well, it stems
From cherry-coloured M & M’s
xxxAnd beetroot in your diet.”

Nice one, Brian. I often wonder why I no longer pee red after eating beetroot. As a child, it would border on the vermilion but adulthood seems to have deprived me of the knack.

The pain! The pain! The searing pain!
I doubt I’ll ever walk again!
I think he’s bust, or snapped, or bent
my bleedin’ cruciate ligament.
So bad I can’t stop rolling round
each blade of grass upon this ground
while drenching all with blood-flecked phlegm.
The TV replays will condemn
that studs-up, lunging tackle which
has left me writhing on the pitch.
Surely there’s no other path
for him, save to an early bath?
Oh ref, the pain! The raging pain!
I’ll never play full-back again!
You've sent him off? The crowd is pleased?
Ah wait, I think the pain has eased...

[Brian Allgar]

Look at these legs - I tell you, they’re my last ones.
I’m on them still, but won’t be for much longer.
When I was young and healthy, they were fast ones;
I’d Jive or Jitterbug, I’d do the Conga,

The Boogie-Woogie and the Bossa Nova
The Waltz, Watusi, and the West Coast Swing.
Oh, dancing was my life; I was in clover,
And I excelled at nearly everything.

I’d Tango, Twist, I’d Rock and Roll, I’d Rumba,
Cavorting on my tireless feet as light as
A balloon, and even in my slumber
I’d twitch like someone dancing with St Vitus.

But now the music’s slow and ballady;
I hobble round the dance-floor with my wife.
The doctor says I’ve got this malady,
A sickness, quite incurable, called “Life”.

[Ann Drysdale]

Look at line 4, O demi-frog...

[Brian Allgar]

These half-frog eyes have looked and looked, O Wise One, but have seen nothing. We crave enlightenment.

[Ann Drysdale]

Danse? or is that a special term applied to congas?

[Rob Stuart]

I've seen this as an archaic spelling (as in 'Danse Macabre') but is it appropriate here...?

[Royston Vasey]

...but is it appropriate here...?

I think it is, and given this thread's subject matter, I'd say it's rather nicely done.

[Brian Allgar]

Originally Posted by Rob Stuart

I've seen this as an archaic spelling (as in 'Danse Macabre') but is it appropriate here...?

Rob, it's not archaic, just French.

Ann, you've convinced me to wait for whisky-time. "I think I will not hang myself today".