c4countdown

Agh!

There was a young man, name of Male,
at concealing spoilers he did fail,
The forum got angry
when they saw on TV
That 10 nines and an eight did prevail!

That could have been better...

Nice one, Phil!

We thought time in Leeds was all spent
But as Kirk's a perfect young gent
He goes back on the show
We watch his score grow
As he wins 162-74 with 5 nines and a 1 second conundrum. Spoiler. Oh.

Phil Reynolds wrote:Drifting from past to present tense for no apparent reason: 0/10

Oh yes. Typed up quickly from a scrawled piece of paper as I wrote it at work.
I did think of suggesting you marked me, it seems I didn't need to!

Hannah O wrote:Agh!

There was a young man, name of Male,
at concealing spoilers he did fail,
The forum got angry
when they saw on TV
That 10 nines and an eight did prevail!

That could have been better...

Nice one, Phil!

Would it break your poetic heart if I told you my surname is pronounced "Mally"? I mean, it's not, you've got it right, just saying.

I would be distressed, but apologise for getting your name wrong! It's annoying when people misspell or mispronounce it consistently.

Thank you for your complement, Hannah!

Kirk, you're funny!

And Lesley, likewise to you too! However, my original poem didn't mention Carol either so I felt no need to mention Rachel. Jeff Stelling has apparently got his warm and fuzzy side, which I failed to see when I saw clips of him on Soccer Saturday. Charlie is indeed right, Jeff Stelling is very professional and smooth under pressure!

There once was a man from Peru
who finished his poems and mine too.

And who is this man from Peru?
Please tell us you're joking that it's true!

I came to this thread with a view
to see long poems- but there are few!
Tell me some more of Peru,
I think that the man's in fact you!

Countdown is a programme without rancour,
Nor contrived plot devices like "the Banker",
But all's not as it seems,
In walks Charlie Reams,
And we've finally found ourselves a WANKER!

But alas it ne'er got past the edit,
There was a bleep in the place where he'd said it.
But the producer hadn't reckoned,
That in the CoC's dying second,
Charlie'd utter GANDISEEG (much to his credit).

Aficionados are choosy
We want to hear more about Susie
But excellent spelling
Cuts no ice with Stelling
He favours the numerate floozy.

We write these without any fuss,
and include the occasional cuss
but is it a crime
if lim'ricks don't rhyme
if you write the last line in a rush

Wow, those are some brilliant limericks!

Hannah, you're kidding!

David, I think it was someone else that uttered GANDISEEG in the first place. Charlie was just imitating him.

Right: I know not every stanza scans perfectly. And yes, I should get out more. But here's a little something I cobbled together in my free time (aka lectures )

Each day I await eagerly
Twenty-five minutes past three.
I gasp under my breath;
It's starting, there's Jeff!
And the lovely Rachel and Susie

We start with the first letters round.
A bad start just a five with 'sound.'
Contestants match me,
Eyes turn to Susie.
"'Doughnuts' was the word that I found."

Letters done, it’s numbers then.
6 small, target hundred and ten.
I solve easily,
And am filled with glee
Til I notice there’s no seven.

Our poor brains can now have a rest.
We listen to the special guest.
He tells us a tale,
With laughter we wail.
Now adverts, they are a real pest.

Round 6 has hard letters indeed:
A ‘J’ then an ‘X’ and a ‘V’.
I manage a four,
But champion gets more
And with that she stretches her lead.

“Origins” now with Ms Dent.
She speaks in her lovely accent.
Her close-up makes it
My favourite bit
From Heaven she must have been sent!

More numbers then adverts follow
Just 5 more short rounds to go.
Tea Time Teaser Two
Has a terrible clue;
When Jeff explains it I say “Oh(!)”

The next group of letters look fine.
I astound myself, I get a nine!
But to my shock
Champion did not.
But challenger did- comeback time!

With only two rounds remaining
I can’t tell who’s going to win.
Easy numbers game
Margin stays the same.
I’m nervous and I’m not playing!

Jeff dims the lights and we wait.
Clock starts twenty-nine, twenty-eight…
What could it be?
Perhaps Gandiseeg?
I’ll never solve it at this rate!

The time soon runs out, down to nil.
The answer Jeff will now reveal.
My goodness, I’ve heard
Of this common word
More practice is needed, I feel!

So another challenger falls.
Bad luck Sir, a round of applause.
In the winners camp
They salute the champ
For whom Octo-champdon-ship calls!

The end of the show we are at.
I look sadly down at my cat.
It’s really sad news
Goodbye Rach and Sooz
I’d really like lots more of that!

A whimper escapes from my throat.
I cry as I grab the remote.
The next Countdown show
Not til tomorrow!
There’s no way on Earth I can cope!

I climb up the stairs to my room
And see something that lifts my gloom.
What have I seen
On my PC screen?
Apterous to vanquish the doom!

Thank you for reading
You clearly have too much free time

Very good poem, Neil!

When Kirk won Series 60,
Simon was beaming with glee,
He ran onto the set
And together they met
Oh, by the way, spoiler.

Kai Laddiman wrote: Simon was breaming with glee,

Clearing a boat from shells and seaweed? You mean "beaming" surely.

Kirk Bevins wrote:

Kai Laddiman wrote: Simon was breaming with glee,

Clearing a boat from shells and seaweed? You mean "beaming" surely.

Shut up.

I once met a person called Kai
Who said he liked curry and Thai
He thought it a laugh
When he did a big barf
And he said that he was a guy!


Last line doesnt fit in does it?

Anyone have any Valentine verses?

Roses are red
violets are blue
...............................
...............................

Lesley Jeavons wrote:Anyone have any Valentine verses?

Roses are red
violets are blue
...............................
...............................

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Give me some chocolate
Or I'll murder you too.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
(((100+6)x3x75)-50)/25
= 952

There once was a man named Innis

Really, Kai?

There once was a man named Innis,
His choice of numbers made everyone grimace,
4 large and 6 small
Yet he could solve them all
Though 930 with 6 small went amiss.

I'm aware it doesn't quite scan or rhyme, but with a name like Innis...

Roses are red,
violets are blue
Gimme a numbers solution
and a 9 letter word too!

I'm not demanding at all this Valentine's Day! As for Kai's suggestion, I think it's a good idea

So, you just finished Ben's poem after all!

That is a great finish to Ben's poem, Hannah!

Thank you Jason- I'm very flattered! It's not the greatest in regards to rhyming, but I had to work with Innis as a name (No offence!)

None taken! If anything it was nice of you not to resort to the standard Guinness line.

...Oh, drat! There is a rhyme for your name! Excuse me while I go away and sulk for not noticing

You're welcome, Hannah!

By the way, I wouldn't beat myself up over the fact that Guinness rhymes with Innis if I were you!

Haha! You're right, Jason- it just shows that I don't spend all my life drinking!

Yes, even if you think it might it doesn't take a genius to realize that!

Roses aren't red
More a dark pinkish hue
And violets are violet
(The name is a clue)

Roses are red
White, yellow or pink
In a week they'll be dead
And their water will stink.

Red wine is purple
White wine is yellow
Absinthe is green
And so is the vomit afterwards.*

*Seriously. Don't drink anything you can't put in a plastic glass because it will melt. Really.

Rose's are red
Violet's are blue
And Carol doesn't wear any.

Nice poems, Nicky and Phil!

There once was a man named Bamber Boozler,
Whose grandma Barbara was a bit of a loser,
She went to press red,
But instead pressed dead,
And the whole Boozler family was sad to lose her.

The Pope thinks that Countdown is great,
He watches it in the Vatican State,
A priest's on- Pope's elated
Offering a 7- LEGATED
"You idiot" he yells, "it's LEGATE!"

Cardinals squirm and are tempted to flee,
for (if they recognised that priest rightly)
That the priest should know
legated's wrong (why's that so?)
Because he's the Pope's representative with the Holy See!

Great poems, Ben and Hannah!

Kirk Bevins wrote:

Kai Laddiman wrote: Simon was breaming with glee,

Clearing a boat from shells and seaweed? You mean "beaming" surely.

I was probably referring to this

Caught up with this week's episode of Shameless last night, and had a bit of an epiphany during the opening titles. 12 episodes into series six, and I've only just noticed that the current incarnation of Frank's monologue is actually all in rhyming couplets. Hehehe... scatter!

Jason Larsen wrote:Just for the sake of it, could someone write a regular poem?

OK Jason - I have been known to dabble in poetry in my earlier years. Reading between the lines, I think you're a bit of a romantic at heart and you're craving a bit of cultural inspiration.

The creative juices starting flowing again with my recent attempts at "limericks". This led to me discovering this thread. Much of my early poetry had a romantic theme, so I'll start things off with the manner in which I proposed to my fantastic wife Julie. I'll set the scene first:

Having been going out with Julie for about a year, I decided to propose to her in a special way. One Friday afternoon in April 1994, whilst she was at work, she received a series of deliveries from a florist -

First was a single rose and on the card it simply said "I".
She then received a teddy bear and on the card I had drawn a red heart.
Finally she received a bunch of flowers and on the card it said "U".

That night, she came to my house and I had got "The Firm" with Tom Cruise from Blockbuster Video which had just been released. I also ordered our favourite pizza to be delivered from Pizza Hut (apologies to Box pizza fans). Part way through the film, I paused it ........ and then came the "piece de resistance". I had composed a poem and commissioned a calligrapher to write it on a scroll. This was rolled up and tied with a red ribbon. Having opened a bottle of Moet et Chandon, I got down on one knee, unfurled the scroll and made my proposal:

Will you Marry Me?

To you my darling Julie, I have something to propose,
At the end of this short verse, a simple question I shall pose,
If you're not certain of the answer, then here's a little clue,
Let me take this opportunity, to spell it out to you.

Y is for You, my personal rhapsody in blue,
E is for Ever, the amount of time we'll spend together,
S is for Seal, to permanently bond the way we feel,
and lead us down the aisle, as the church bells begin to peal.

These three letters put together, will be music to my ears,
A melodic grand concerto, to dispel all of my fears,
For better or for worse, for more or for less,
Let your lips form the shape, of the word that says Yes.

Hand in hand I'll stand beside you, for the rest of my life,
My devotion will always be true, if you say you'll be my wife,
Across the threshold, my dear Julie, please let me carry thee,
With all my heart, I love you truly, so Will you
Marry Me?

The answer was "YES".

I'll provide further examples of my poetry in future posts.

Julie and I got married in June 1995. We had a brilliant ceremony at Shepley Methodist Church near Denby Dale, where the female priest gave me licence to do whatever I wanted.

Consequently, we both wrote our own marriage vows. We memorised these and simply recited them to the congregation rather than the usual practice of having to repeat what the priest usually says. As part of the ceremony, I went behind the pulpit and again recited my poem "Will you marry me?" to Julie. She accepted and after formally going through our personalised vows, I then took my place behind the pulpit once more. This time, I recited a poem I had specially written for our wedding day (make sure you scroll down to read the message taken from the first letter of each paragraph):

Our Wedding Day


I n the dawn of this new era, the sun breaks the cold horizon,
My vision is all the clearer, as I begin to focus my eyes on,
The moment which will last forever, and lead us on our way,
As we begin our life together, on this our Wedding Day.



L ast night, the curtains of our past, were closed forever more,
Today, our hands are clasped, on the handle of futures door,
The golden archway to tomorrow, has a halo of pure, white light,
To cleanse us of past sorrows, through morning, noon and night.

O n the stroke of 3 o'clock, the church organ hit the note,
To herald the arrival to the flock, of the one on whom I dote,
Over my shoulder I cast a glance, as you slowly walked the aisle,
A perfect picture of elegance, I could not help but smile.

V eiled by a mask so soft and fine, your beauty was crystal clear,
I let our fingers intertwine, to touch the one I hold so dear,
A magic moment was realised, as you stood there by my side,
When I looked deep into your eyes, to behold my future bride.

E ach word which was clearly intoned, as we exchanged our marital vows,
Cemented the fragments of stone, in the construction of our house,
From the foundations of instant appeal, to the rafters of wedded bliss,
Our lips gently set the seal, with a whisper of a kiss.



Y our arm tightly linked with mine, united as husband and wife,
Prepared to weather both rain and shine, we began our new journey in life,
Through a blizzard of confetti and rice, we set forth with young Emily in tow,
Our hearts melt past memories of ice, to set warm rivers of hope in a flow.

O ur family and friends all gathered together, to share our joy on this special day,
Whilst we cannot live this moment forever, as time slowly ticks away,
My thoughts will stay clear and untouched, as fading memories eventually desist,
Because my feelings for you are such, that no boundaries will ever exist.

U nto you my darling Julie, I pledge my troth for all to see,
Both our hearts are now linked duly, for I am the lock and you are the key,
Upon this day and forever more, the simple message is plain but true,
You are the one I truly adore, and dearest Julie
I Love
You

Again, the same calligrapher wrote this on a scroll. Both poems are framed and the feelings contained in them remain with us to this day.

Jason Larsen wrote:Just for the sake of it, could someone write a regular poem?

There once was a drink in the cooler,
That belonged to a thirsty jeweller,
The drink wasn't small,
Nor was it big, fool,
In fact it was just a reg-ular

Those are brilliant, Philip and Gavin!

Are any bets being taken on who will win the Series 60 final?

For the gamblers amongst you, here's a poem I wrote 20 years ago in June 1989. Although it's a bit long, I think you'll find it a fairly good read.

The Game of Life

The game of life is one which is played by all,
Each player has the opportunity to either rise or fall,
Nobody has the eternal right to happiness and success,
Everyone has to take a chance to realise their quest.

True love, health and wealth are among the many goals,
But to miss out can be easy, with each net containing holes,
The ground rules aren't simple in the field of play,
Life is not just black and white, there are many shades of grey.

The scales of justice create a balance between right and wrong,
The opportunities are said to be equal for both the weak and strong,
With each game, however, there are winners and losers both,
Whilst many fight for crumbs, a few others take the loaf.

The game commences as the coin of life is tossed,
The choice of heads or tails will determine the cost,
From birth through to death, many choices must be made,
For each decision taken, a certain price must be paid.

The eternal highway of life contains many different turns,
For every route a player takes, a new experience he learns,
Despite apparent success, most players continue the game,
Addicted by the desire for love, health wealth or fame.

Down the misty corridors of fate, Jack Diamond he did stride,
Without success, there was a certain door he had previously tried,
Jack again approached this door, and grasped the handle once more,
He held his breath in anticipation, wondering just what lay in store.

Slowly the door opened, and Jack quickly stepped inside,
The room contained many people, from places far and wide,
The interior was vast, stretching as far as the eye could see,
With every game imaginable, on which to play ones destiny.

"Good evening, Sir," a soft voice was heard to say,
Jack turned to see a receptionist, seated by the doorway,
"Welcome to the Club ........... please let me take your coat,"
"We were expecting you tonight," from the guest list she did note.

Somewhat surprised, Jack moved closer to query the entrance fee,
"As our guest tonight Mr Diamond, your membership is free,"
"Although the stakes are high, no money will you require,"
"These three chips are the key to your every desire."

Jack took the three chips and held them in his palm,
Closely he studied each multi-coloured charm,
The first chip was yellow, the second being blue,
The third chip was red, with a black cross running through.

The rules of the house the receptionist then did explain,
"Each game that you play can cause ecstasy or pain,"
"To use the yellow chip will affect your fitness and health,"
"Whilst playing the blue will determine your wealth."

"Probably most important is the red chip ........ a real tablet of doom,"
"For that is the only exit pass, which will let you leave this room,"
"To play the red and lose, is the ultimate cost,"
"Your life will be ended, and your soul will be lost."

Jack placed the chips in his pocket, and wandered on inside,
Whether to risk playing a game, was the question to decide,
But life is full of risks, with many opportunities to take,
So Jack went into the game, with his future as the stake.

Standing opposite a mean looking bandit with only one arm,
The flashing lights of his eyes told Jack this guy meant harm,
Into the slotted mouth of the bandit, the yellow chip he did feed,
It was hungrily swallowed up, with both avarice and greed.

Jack slowly reached forward and forced the bandits arm down,
He was determined to prove he was the strongest in town,
With Jack's health as the prize for the bandit to steal,
He could only hope the bandit would regurgitate its meal.

The reels on the face of the bandit, each began to spin,
A revolving fruit salad to decide who would win,
The orchard of combinations were too numerous to assess,
The pick of the crop can be anybody's guess.

However, the outcome was as fruitless as an empty jam jar,
As the final reel stopped to reveal a triple BAR,
For a few unnerving seconds, Jack stood transfixed to the spot,
Then an avalanche of chips signalled he'd hit the jackpot.

Jack immediately felt a massive surge of power,
His health bloomed, like a freshly blossomed flower,
He confidently moved on, in search of the next game,
Having tasted success, he craved more of the same.

Jack sat at the table, where the game was Roulette,
The odds were against him as he considered his bet,
He reached over to place the blue chip, in the space marked number seven,
Would this be the gateway to hell or to heaven?

The wheel of fortune started to spin around and around,
A kaleidoscopic merry-go-round in this fantasy fairground,
The whirlpool of numbers blurred faster and faster,
A cosmic turmoil which viewed no man as its master.

The planetary ball began its orbit of the wheel,
Its gravitational descent, it would very soon reveal,
Entering the numerical atmosphere, the ball bounced to and fro,
But where would it land? ........ It was impossible to know.

"No more bets please!" the croupier did politely call,
And seconds later, into its slot, the ball it did fall,
"Seven, Red!" was the announcement which the croupier made,
Jack tried to remain cool, as he waited to be paid.

Jack rose from the table, his breath taken away,
Satisfied with his lot, no more games would he play,
He headed for the exit, without force or through duty,
When in the corner he did glimpse, a vision of pure beauty.

Jack froze in his tracks, as across the room their eyes did meet,
The blood surged through his body, as his heart increased a beat,
He walked across and introduced himself, to this stunning blond bombshell,
She said "Hello, I'm pleased to meet you ....... my name it is Michelle."

"You look so lonely and unhappy," Jack sadly did observe,
"Surely there is much more to life, than this that you deserve,"
"All my chips have been lost except the red," Michelle replied,
"The only thing remaining is my self respect and pride."

"But I'm on a winning streak, can I help in any way,"
"To reverse your misfortune, before I leave today?"
Overcome by his offer, Michelle took Jack's hand and said,
"There is only one alternative, to playing the red."

"On the 'Game of Life', all your winnings must be placed,"
"But only if we win, will my losses be erased,"
"If either of us lose, your future life will be worse,"
"Eternally tormented by a black unearthly curse."

"You're certainly a gamble," said Jack "but one I'm prepared to take,"
"I'm sure I've picked a winner, that's certainly no mistake,"
"If we both work together, and form a united team,"
"No task is as difficult, as at first it may seem."

The 'Game of Life' was set centre stage, on a slightly raised platform,
As they took their seats a silence fell, like the calm before the storm,
To herald the players the lights suddenly flashed, and the sirens all did sound,
A melee of people inwardly rushed, as the crowd quickly gathered around.

As all the other games ended, the lights dimmed throughout the room,
Apart from the spotlight above their stage, to contrast against the gloom,
Suddenly, from out of thin air, a croupier did appear,
He welcomed them to the game, with a devilish leer.

As the cigarette smoke spiralled upwards, Jack raised his glass to his lips,
He squeezed Michelle's hand, as he returned his winning chips,
The piercing red eyes of the croupier, shone through the haze,
As he swiftly dealt the cards, across the green baize.

A multitude of people looked on, from the surrounding grandstand,
From the five cards they received, each had to make a winning hand,
Jack lay his cards upon the table, as in Michelle his trust was placed,
She immediately gave him her heart, and took away his only ace.

The croupier showed his hand, 666, with a dark satanic grin,
Up Jack's sleeve there were no tricks, so how could they win?
There were gasps at Michelle's three aces, amidst the deathly hush,
Then Jack smiled quietly to himself, as he revealed a Royal Flush.

The croupier transformed into a devil, his features all twisted and writhed,
"Having won this game you will leave, with no more than when you arrived."
But both Jack and Michelle knew, that he couldn't be more wrong,
As they felt their new found love, growing increasingly more strong.

In the calendar of their lifetimes, several pages had been turned,
But both their futures lay ahead, and were not to be spurned,
Time will only tell, the significance of the date,
When they walked hand in hand, down the misty corridors of fate.

Is there some rule that poems must be in blue? To think, I used to understand this place.

Philip, you are brilliant!

You know, there's an American game of Life, but it has nothing to do with gambling.

I Just read Kai's spoiler for today's final poem, ironically posted on my birthday. Bugger.

Anyway may aswell contribute something whimsical while i'm here...

Susie Dent and Rachel Riley,
all the fellas rate them highly
but as we know they both have misters
can you tell us if they've any sisters

Andy Wilson wrote:I Just read Kai's spoiler for today's final poem, ironically posted on my birthday. Bugger.

Anyway may aswell contribute something whimsical while i'm here...

Susie Dent and Rachel Riley,
all the fellas rate them highly
but as we know they both have misters
can you tell us if they've any sisters

I do not think so,
Rachel has mentioned a brother before
But a sister
No

Derek Hazell wrote:

Andy Wilson wrote:I Just read Kai's spoiler for today's final poem, ironically posted on my birthday. Bugger.

Anyway may aswell contribute something whimsical while i'm here...

Susie Dent and Rachel Riley,
all the fellas rate them highly
but as we know they both have misters
can you tell us if they've any sisters

I do not think so,
Rachel has mentioned a bro
But a sister No

Haiku corner!

Anybody planning on going out tonight to celebrate the winner of Series 60 (or for any other reason), should take heed of the following (written June 1995):

Drink Driving

POWER ON
SEARCH
PLAY

It was Saturday night, both lads were dressed to kill,
The car looked quite a sight, restored through love and skill,
“It should go like a rocket, I tuned the engine up today,”
He pulled the keys out of his pocket, “We’ll pick the girls up on our way.”

Both girls squeezed in the back, tight shirts and mini skirts,
They roared off down the track, slewing dirt in fits and spurts,
He turned the volume to its full, “Life should never be dull,”
“We’re gonna have some fun,” he set the tape to start its run.

FAST FORWARD

“A Red Ferrari, a White Maserati,”
“Let’s hit the throttle, all hale and hearty,”
“A Red Campari, a White Frascati,”
“Let’s hit the bottle ....... We’re having a party!!”

PAUSE
PLAY

After parking the car, he ordered from the bar,
“A gleaming Porche Targa, two pints of lager,”
“A pink coloured Lada, a Pina Colada,”
“A rusty old Skoda, a white wine and soda.”

“A Red Ferrari, a White Maserati,”
“Let’s hit the throttle, all hale and hearty,”
“A Red Campari, a White Frascati,”
“Let’s hit the bottle ....... We’re having a party!!”

FAST FORWARD
PLAY

“Let’s make up some lost ground, I’m sure it’s now your round,”
“The clock says nearly ten, let’s have the same again,”
“A soft top XR3, a tall glass of Cherry B,”
“A silver Lamborghini, a slightly chilled Martini.”

“A Red Ferrari, a White Maserati,”
“Let’s hit the throttle, all hale and hearty,”
“A Red Campari, a White Frascati,”
“Let’s hit the bottle ....... We’re having a party!!”

PAUSE
PLAY

“Come on lads, it’s time to go, let’s queue up for the bus,”
“You’ve had a few tonight you know,” “Hey girls, what’s all the fuss?”
“I’ve hardly touched the stuff tonight, I’ve got my car parked just outside,”
“I’m feeling fine, we’ll be alright, get in the car ........ and let’s go ride!”

Sun roof up, windows down, ignition fires, first gear found,
Music up, throttle down, burning tyres, across the ground,
Pistons pumping, heartbeats thumping, landscape rushing, tension crushing,
Cold sweat dripping, fingers gripping, eyes open wide, “Slow down!” they cried.

FAST FORWARD

“A Red Ferrari, a White Maserati,”
“Let’s hit the throttle, all hale and hearty,”
“A Red Campari, a White Frascati,”
“Let’s hit the bottle ....... We’re having a party!!”

“Red Ferrari, White Maserati,”
“Red Campari, White Frascati,”
“Red Ferrari, White” ........... lights dazzle??
“Red Ferr ... aarghh!!” ........ _ _

PAUSE

Red blood oozed across the dash, a gory aftermath of the crash,
Tortured metal bent and mangled, torsos, legs and arms entangled,
A cavalcade of flashing lights, and wailing sirens assailed the night,
Piercing screams impaled the sky, amidst anguished cries of “Why? Oh, Why?”

A mother weeps, as her child eternally sleeps,
A father grieves, with no chance of any reprieve,
A sister wails, at the insanity which has prevailed,
A brother mourns, as the reality begins to dawn.

PLAY

“A Red Ferrari, a White Bacardi,”
“A fatal cocktail, for those foolhardy,”
“When you’re out in the car, stay away from the bar,”
“Help us all stay alive ........ DON’T DRINK AND DRIVE!!”

STOP
EJECT
POWER OFF

Lol, very nice. Like the terrorist attack in London right after the olympics announcement.

Actually it reminds me of all those songs about people dying on the road - Terry, Leader of the Pack, Tell Laura I Love Her . . .

Derek Hazell wrote:Actually it reminds me of all those songs about people dying on the road - Terry, Leader of the Pack, Tell Laura I Love Her . . .

'Terry' - is that the one that's a sort of narrative from a girlfriend in an ambulance taking her boyfriend to hospital? That's one of the most fucked-up songs I've ever heard, if so. 'Leader Of The Pack' is ace, though.

JimBentley wrote:'Terry' - is that the one that's a sort of narrative from a girlfriend in an ambulance taking her boyfriend to hospital? That's one of the most fucked-up songs I've ever heard, if so. 'Leader Of The Pack' is ace, though.

Yep, that's the one. Actually I quite like depressing songs, so I'm probably not the best one to comment on this. I also enjoy the films of Mike Leigh.

Mike Leigh, I like his movie,
I like depressing songs, not groovy
That is really so bad
Or is it just that I'm sad?
(Just to keep the thread on topic)

Brilliant, Andy and Philip!

I was just tidying up, as usual, and found these excrutiatingly bad poems which I wrote when I was 11. The first was at home after a trip to Brill with the family, and the second was a school project in our music class where we were asked to write a rap:

The Mill at Brill on the Hill

I said to, my brother Bill "I'm not stoppping 'till,
I see that mill on the hill".
"What mill on the hill?" said my sister Lil,
And I replied "that mill at Brill!"

To this day I haven't stopped still.
I'd kill to see that mill on the hill.
My cousin Jill is taking pills,
For want to see that little old mill.

When I eat my dinner I always fill
My stomach with, fresh grilled gill of a krill.
When I do my writing I write with a quill,
I've got lots of models on my winder-sill,
But I still can't find that mill . . . but I will!

There ain't anything, no not nil,
That'll take away my mind's drill;
The drill in my head that says "see that mill!"
. . . But I haven't still.

Apparently there is a real nursery rhyme featuring that place too!


WAR RAP: The World Wars

The World War One was a very big fight,
And lots of people went on strike
Food and clothes could not be found;
Lots of people slept all around the town.
Houses and homes were all blown down,
And everybody fled from the destroyed towns.
The Germans, who were generally known as Nazis,
Were ruining everything; they really were nasty!

The war was loud, the war was cruel,
People all fled from home and school,
Blood was splattered everywhere,
But the Gerrys didn't care!
Innocent people lay all over the place,
What these men were doing was a real disgrace!
But people weren't the only ones to die;
Birds dropped in thousands from the sky,
Piglets ran squealing from their sties,
All all over the fields farm animals lie.

When this war went, everyone said "Hooray!,
We can live our lives as normal again today".
People were peaceful, but not for long:
Because in another 21 years there was no more song,
Another war started which was 1 1/2 times as long.

Funny to see my understanding of the war as a young kid, but less funny to see how much more advanced 11 year olds are today . . .

Derek, The Mill at Brill on the Hill is more like a tongue twister!

What should we believe next?

Peter Piper is a real person?

Derek Hazell wrote:When I eat my dinner I always fill
My stomach with, fresh grilled gill of a krill.

Haha. Reminds me of a game we used to play when I belonged to a comedy improv troupe, where we'd each take it in turns to sing a line of the song Da-Doo-Ron-Ron, starting with "I met him on a Monday and my heart stood still/Somebody told me that his name was Bill", but then keeping the rhyme going (without repetition) until somebody couldn't come up with one and was eliminated, at which point we'd start again with a new name suggested by the audience. The first round almost invariably ended up with somebody eating their fill of krill.

(Oh, and we used to play Three-Words-at-a-Time Story too.)

There once was a desire to start a new thread,
I posted it from a good idea in my head.
Jarvis killed it double quick,
With his thunderous dick,
And now I often wake up sweating in bed.