[John Whitworth]

Vuckov and Dye. Er...

Thak you Chris. I have spent the last four days in Germany, in Cologne actually and have to say I have misjudged these splendid people all these years. Charming and helpful, you only have to stand for a moment looking puzzled (and the Cologne transport system would certainly do that) and they approach from all sides. Some of them turn out to be American. All so NICE. The children are much less vile than ours, like children of forty years ago, doing old-fashioned things like playing cards and laughing and running about.

[Chris O'Carroll]

Glad it was a pleasant trip, John. That the Germans are charming and nice comes as no surprise. But Americans, too? No frickin’ way.

[John Whitworth]

Germany is old-fashioned. Like England before.... oh you know. Those children have old-fashioned haircuts. And Mrs Merkel is like everybody's granny.

[Rob Stuart]

My granny wasn't ex-Stasi (as far as I know).

[John Whitworth]

Ex-stasi? I can't find that. Of course in a sense nearly all Europeans of the twentieth century are guilty of collaboration, more or less, with totalitarian regimes. As we would have been doubtless. Fortunately we didn't have the chance to find out.

Sorry. Off-topic and probably wrong. Here's a poem that's on-topic


Posh ‘n Becks

Posh ‘n Becks, Posh ‘n Becks, youth ‘n beauty, stuff ‘n sex,
Countless millions crane their necks, Posh ‘n Becks, we love yer!

Spice Girl! Footie boy! It’s a perfect pairing,
Caring ‘n sharing, Everybody staring,
What is that she’s wearing? O…

Becks ‘n Posh, Becks, ‘n Posh, loadsa love ‘n loadsa dosh,
Oh by golly, oh by gosh, Becks ‘n Posh, we love yer!

Spice Girl! Footie boy! David and Victoria,
it’s the same old story o’ in excelsis gloria,
Wish that there were more o’ yer. O…

Posh ’n Becks, Posh ‘n Becks, sorceress ‘n pontifex,
Multivalent, multiplex, Posh ‘n Becks, we love yer!

[Rob Stuart]

Originally Posted by John Whitworth

Ex-stasi? I can't find that.

Well, you would't, John. You see... no, I've said too much already.

I daresay that's the first time anyone has rhymed 'Posh and Becks' with 'pontifex'!

Ronnie and Reggie Kray

Of all the famous villains bred within this noble land,
No other thugs are quite as sorely missed.
What modern gangsters, sawing off a screaming rival’s hand,
Would subsequently shake them by the wrist?

If Ron or Reg beheaded you for welching on a debt,
They’d send your wife some flowers for support.
A smile was all but guaranteed for everyone they met
(Though coppers’ narks would get the Chelsea sort).

They shopped in Saville Row, of course, and only ever wore
The finest whistles dirty cash could buy.
They’d change their shoes if only lightly flecked with spots of gore,
And neither brooked a blood-bespattered tie.

When setting you on fire they’d follow every etiquette
And thank you for your time. God bless the Krays!
We’ll never see their like again. It’s true you used to get
A better class of criminal those days.

[Holly Wess]

John- Why would you expect modern day children to run about? They would certainly fall and damage their iphones and tablets!

[John Whitworth]

The German children didn't appear to HAVE iphones and tablets. Strange eh?

I might be the first person to rhyme 'pontifex' with anything.

[Douglas G. Brown]

The Passionate Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation to his Love
(J. Edgar Hoover and his sidekick Clyde Tolson)

I am a scowling, bitter guy,
Director of the FBI;
But darling Clyde, I shall be true,
And love no other man but you.

I always wear my panty hose
And frilly bras beneath the clothes
Of the top G-man in the land;
Men’s underwear is much too bland.

When I have put the crooks away
And leave my desk at end of day,
To take a break from fighting crime;
The nights with you are so sublime.

So, after we have wined and dined,
Our bodies intimately twined;
I promise, Clyde, that you and I
Will be together ’til we die.

[John Whitworth]

I like it, Douglas. Filth.

This is Classical Filth.

Daphnis and Chloe.

You're looking very girlish,
In sandals, socks and chiffon,
All gorgeous golden curlish,
So pert and pink and girlish.
I fear it's rather churlish
To stiffen like a griffin
But you're so gorgeous girlish
In sandals, socks and chiffon.

You're definitely boyish,
All tousled-tramp and dirty,
All puddle-jumper joyish.
You seem supremely boyish,
So Bob Hobbledehoyish,
Scuffed shoes and open shirty.
I think you're very boyish,
Tramp-tousled, dirty-shirty.