1. Hobbo on life

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com
Peppa Pig
It's like a scene from Tolkien
with Peppa Pig and vaccine;
strategy just goes wrong
for Boris Johnson's swansong.
Send him to España
to play at Rule Brittania,
we don't require CBeebies
to fix our heebie-jeebies.
That's rich
Jeff Bezos has a bob or two
and Musk is doing not bad too,
Arnault's rolling in french bunce,
Bill gates is no soft money dunce,
Zuckerberg could pay the way
for Putin on a rainy day.
Hamilton has loads of trophies,
me, I'm skint, but I've got Dauphy.

Adele graces lower tiers,
Posh and Becks have money fears,
Boris Johnson struggles by,
the Queen's enough to make you cry,
Streisand's built melodic cash,
and Paul McCartney's quite a stash.
I may not have their filthy lucre
but Mrs H. is my Manuka.
A new motor
Old Mother Harkitt
went to the market
to treat her good self to a motor.
When she got there,
they'd a C5 Sinclair,
a tractor, two Fords and a Skoda.

But she wanted green,
entirely clean.
one hundred percent carbon zero
and with nothing she liked
she bought a push bike,
that lady, my friend, is a hero.
Contentment
Whilst I'm usually okay
in the skin I am in,
I sometimes reflect
on the years I was thin.
When I had my own teeth
and I still had some hair,
my memory was good,
I could quote from Voltaire.

Many winters older
and folk look at me
like I'm stuck to their shoe
or I fell from a tree.
I am pleased that my missus
has aged a bit too,
I'm the house red
and she's the grand cru.
my generation
I hope that I die
before I get old,
lyrics of a lie, my
generation were sold.

Who were so sure
before they got there,
they would not try that cure,
they did not want that care.

Now we are old
and do not have our youth,
if I may be so bold,
that is not quite the truth.
True Equality
I'm completely anti-racist,
don't care for social class,
two hoots how black your face is,
how white your sorry ass.

Wealthy king or homeless bum,
I treat you just the same,
all alike to me, old chum,
no need to know your name.

Your titles stupefy me,
Your money makes me squirm,
Take note, I'll liquify thee,
I'm a very hungry worm!
The perfect job
Nine to five is not for me,
The no sir, yes sir, no siree.
I'll choose a job with hours short,
time for family, friends and sport.

Avoiding stress, designer stubble,
suits to match and shooting trouble.
Supervision, that's not me,
I need a job where I can be

allowed to mention what I think,
your mission sucks, your morals stink.
Career's okay, but life means more
than listening to the office bore

pontificating what new trend
will get our customers to spend
their hard earned money on our lines,
which really are a waste of time.

Bespoke my needs, not off the shelf,
a job where I can be myself,
a circus clown, comedian,
equestrian or ice cream man,

Big Issue seller, benefits
-no, I want to work (a bit),
I guess I'll stay a troglodyte,
sit in my cave all day and write.
Skittles
Skittles and beer,
Sunshine and cheer,
For most people struggling through,
Life's hard work and muck
With a bit of good luck
And mebez a chuckle or two.
Legal Theft
Solicitors, Putov and Stall.
Quite literally did bugger all
For their outrageous fees
But fiddle and squeeze,
Using terms which made clients feel small.
Threes
The telly died first,
Champions League,
Liverpool v Athletico.
A dark shadow spread
over the pitch,
obsolescence built in,
an electrical cancer,
aggresive and terminal.
Quickly sorted though,
online bargain,
free delivery too.

Then the boiler,
mid-shower,
no power.
That, a smidgeon more difficult.
Phone line
suggested going online,
Mr W.W.Web was not available.
Finally made contact
with a human being,
or a recording of one, to be accurate.
Appointment made,
any time between 6am and 11pm!
Brilliant, job done.

Unable to sleep.
Worry of engineer's visit.
Check watch, 1.45am
again, the same as last time
I checked. Watch is broken.
Should have got that second hand Rolex
I couldn't afford.
Ah well. That's three.
At least it's not me.
Not this time anyway.
Les Français
They seek them here, 
They seek them there,
Can't find those 
dinghies anywhere.

Perhaps they lied
and Macron gloats,
they've somehow spied
two fishing boats!
L'Origine du monde
L'Origine du monde
quite clearly, wasn't blonde.
I suspect monsieur Courbet,
in his own artistic way
may have needed little urging
to see if she was virgin.

She, without her head,
was anonymous instead.
Perhaps the lower half
deserved a separate autograph,
or maybe on that day,
monsieur's wife had played away.
Water torture
Doctor, this dribble,
I don't want to quibble,
The drip in my trousers needs stopping.
This short piece of string
Round the end of the thing
Will do till you've finished your shopping.
A rare treat
After weeks
of waiting,
I have got one.
Should I
treat myself
and keep it,
or
auction it
on eBay 
to the highest bidder?

They are,
after all
rarer
than hen's teeth
and harder
to find
than unicorn poo.

I am still
kicking myself,
and can barely believe
that I
have an actual
face to face
appointment
with my doctor.
Fashionista
Man in baseball cap,
Wearing back to front,
Thinks, 'I'm a stylish chap,'
But looks a silly c**t.
Routine
Every morning,
Wake from dreaming,
Toilet, yawning,
Watch live streaming.
Life's varied journey
Life's journey
will take us
along tearful tracks,
down foolish footpaths,
on manic motorways,
around perilous peages,
across bothersome B-roads,
through cheerful chemins,
up bounteous boulevards
and by breathtaking bridleways,
before finally
pushing us
over the cliff.
A Yorksher man abroad
Fingers crossed,
We took a chance,
Packed our bags
And moved to France..
Got involved
And integrated,
Those French verbs,
So complicated.

Ten years later,
And pull of friends,
Finds us in the
U.K, again.
In Lancashire!
Now that's a wrench,
Much worse than learning
Blooming French!
A gender agenda
Never one to be left on the shelf,
She worked hard, stuck up for herself,
Her driving ambition concealing,
She smashed her way through the glass ceiling
And earning her place in the board room,
She quickly nicknamed it the bored room,
So she quit, formed her own companies,
Now she chairs Planet Earth PLC.
Winning
If I'm in it, to win it,
On what do I pin it?
Is it first past the post
Or amassing the most,
The man with the money,
Or girl with the honey.

If the aim is to win,
Then where do I begin?
To become number one,
Which race should I run?
I suspect it depends-
Pick fame, or choose friends.
That old question
The meaning of life, my friend
May elude us, for good, in the end,
But, I'm convinced, one hundred percent sure,
That it's certainly not about war,
Or fighting, or killing, or guns
Or religion, or rewriting wrongs.
It's all about love, peace and caring,
Helping each other and sharing,
It's not about getting, it's giving,
Embracing our loved ones, that's living.
The hairdresser
Snip, snip, snip, cheerful chat
Clip, clip, clip. "Well, fancy that!"
Skillful scissors work their art,
Flashing fingers play their part,
Concave mirror held for check,
So customer, can spec their neck.
Once again, she's raised the bar,
My hairdresser, you are a star!
Noles
I'm fillin' a nole
Where the bloke fixed the gas,
So the man on the dole
Can easily pass.

I'm diggin' a nole
For the chaps from the Watter
Board, wi' their pole
To stand round and natter.

I'm fillin' a nole
Where the Watter Board went,
This work takes its toll,
I'm a'most clagged, spent.

I'm diggin' a nole
For t'electric chap,
W'un't it be funny
If he fell in it, slap!

I'm fillin' a nole
But I've run out o' muck,
So, I'll fill it wi' coal
And cinders for luck.

I'm diggin' a nole
This time for the Sky
And the watching of goals,
Homeward bound, I ask why?

Why the diggin' of noles
Is no complication,
But bosses in charge
Needs coordination!
The new boy
A new job, reporting,
It's called 'roving mic,'
But I am getting promoted
As fast as you like!

I heard the boss say,
Have you met the new anchor?
The moment she tells me,
I'll be sure to thank her.
Earliest Memories
Maybe, around three or four,
Certainly not any more
Is the earliest memory I've got,
Although someone showed me, it's not.

It's a psychological trick,
Close your eyes, then moisten your lips,
Now, blow some bubbles in spit,
You're a baby again, exquisite!
The house chain
If only that old shed would go
to put towards their studio.

And if the studio sold, then that
would help them buy the ground floor flat.

The ground floor flat would probably sell
if it didn't have that funny smell.

To sort it out, with touch of bleach
would put that terraced house in reach.

That terrace may be near the pier,
but still, it's just a tad too dear.

If they drop the price, it's sure to shift
and give those semi folk a lift.

To buy that house with gorgeous view,
which, cost wise is, I think, a coup.

With all these ducks lined in a row,
then we can have our bungalow.
Hobbo's Philosophy
I am merely a poet,
So, unless I forego it,
I won't change the world overnight,
But if, as you are giggling
A thought begins niggling,
Then, I might, just have done something right.
The Big Idea
I met a man, who had a plan, a cunning plan to save planet Earth. For what it was worth,
the plan was brilliant, resilient, but his wife said, "No!". Not on your life, so, he became an M.P, to sell it, you see.  The P.M, impressed, said that she would invest, but made it perfectly clear that it was her idea.  She said, and I quote, "It will go to the vote."  This amazing proposition, was vetoed by the opposition, who prevented a majority by stating, with authority, that they were not on board because the plan was flawed, too expensive, cost too much, labour intensive nonsensuch!  What price then our planet?  So, rather than it fall at the first fence, which would have made no sense, Parliament, with impunity went to the world community.  Leaders, not the bottom feeders, who mulled the idea over, considered it moreover, agreed, there was no hurry, no need for anyone to worry, everything would work out fine, and could someone pass the wine!




Yorksher equality
Pints for ladies,
Men having babies,
I'm all for equality, me.
Education for women,
Men, synchronised swimming,
-But, expected to make me own tea!
Passing Time
One sounds, like a runaway train,
determined, the end to attain.
One, as auricular should,
all solid and brasses and wood.
A third keeps apace with my heart,
regular, until we depart.
And the last one, makes no noise at all,
A reminder, that all of us fall.
Slow down!
If you're in a rush
to be buried,
live a life that
is hurried and worried!
Champers
Don't tell me the science
behind the bubbles.
Pass me the drink
that will cure my troubles.
I do like a drink,
I'm addicted to fizz,
Champagne is the king,
it is, what it is.

The gaseous sparkle
that gets up my nose
and makes me feel good,
like I'm in my best clothes.
Not that it matters,
as inhibitions are shed,
let's do the naughty,
let's go to bed.
Unfair Advantage
The Captain Fantastic,
Who racked up the hat-tricks,
Transferred for a glittering prize.
Shunned Man. United,
Picked Burnley, excited,
Egged on by the lure of their pies.
Paranoia
They are closing in.
I am being surveilled.
My liberty, my freedom
could soon be curtailed.

The twitching curtains
of neighbourhood spies,
who are nice to my face,
but can't meet my eyes.

My car's being tracked,
there are bugs in my flat,
as yet undetected
but I smell a rat.

Spooks on the corner
are watching my moves,
escape routes are closing,
I've no time to lose.

My passport's been earmarked,
They're watching the ports,
A lookout's been posted
by every police force.

I could hand myself in,
succumb to the looks,
or should I return
these old library books?
Unstoppable
I hate this clock, 
the way that it mocks,
my life in it's mimicking way.
I'll make it sit up,
I won't wind it up,
then see what the thing has to say!
The Drinking Game
A small glass of whisky
things don't look too risky.
A nice pint of beer,
my conscience is clear.

A half of strong cider,
my grin's getting wider.
The bottle of red
goes straight to my head.

A quick vodka shot
and she's looking quite hot.
I won't need the brandy,
I'm already randy.

One more white whine,
the whole world looks fine.
She is on the gin
she says with a grin.

I feel a bit merry
as I switch to sweet sherry.
She, a good sport,
remains on the shorts.

Round to my place?
Whoah, that would be ace!
I grab a quick stout
before passing out.

She's now cross with me,
the pub's licencee.
I can not think why,
perhaps, it's that pie!
Henry VIII
The silly old man didn't learn,
despite a succession of wives,
he would bore very and quickly and turn,
and some of them paid with their lives.

'Off with their head,' he'd declare,
claiming this as a merciful act.
This tyrant had no real compare,
or respect for the marriage contract.

King Henry's sixth and last choice,
a twice married widow, Katherine Parr,
when the old rascal died, heard her voice,
skipping through the palace, 'Ha, ha, ha!'
Question everything
My darling child. I wish for you to learn something.
How, mummy?
By listening to someone special.
Who, mummy?
Me, sweetheart, your mother.
Okay mummy, when?
This morning?
Where, mummy?
Right here, right now.
And what are you going to teach me mummy?
That you must learn to question everything.
Everything, mummy, why?
Because, if you want to change things in life, then you must learn to ask questions about everything and anything. It is very important.
Mummy, can I have an ice cream now please?
No.
Why, mummy?
Religion
Twas on a Tuesday morning
The vicar came to call.
He said, "My child, I've noticed,
You don't go to church, at all."

"Well, the way I see it father,
He must be very busy,
Requests, shout-outs, and favours
Must leave him in a tizzy."

"I've considerately decided,
And it isn't on a whim,
If God himself leaves me alone,
Then I'll not bother Him."

"I'll try to help my neighbour,
And do the best I can,
But religion's not my forte,
I am just a kind old man."
Life on the edge
There was a time, yesterday
when life without limits,
meant bungee jump, sky dive,
or risking a limb. It's

not any more,
the risks are quite minor,
a giddy stair lift,
or a high rise recliner.
The Queen's English
Received pronunciation,
with little deviation,
is required to be a big cheese.
If you're born in the South
with a plumb in your mouth,
then it's something you'll manage, with ease.

Live further North,
say somewhere like Wath,
and your accent's looked on with disdain.
If you wish to go far,
be more than mere par,
posh speech, you must learn how to feign.
A stitch in time
That roof tile has slipped,
shall I open the shed?
I'll fix it tomorrow,
I'm going to bed.

Now the guttering's blocked,
and the water runs over.
The price roofers charge!
They are living in clover.

The rain has got in,
damp patch on the ceiling,
best get a decorator,
the paper is peeling.

Wow, it's got worse,
brought off all the plaster!
The builders are here,
it looks a disaster.

I'll go to the bank,
get a mortgage type loan.
The roof's fallen in,
it's a real no-go zone.

The manager, cheeky,
with a sarcastic smile,
blames the whole thing on me
for not fixing that tile!
The Super Sub
The manager does his finger dance,
whilst sub looks on, bemused, askance,
the boss's words, distorted fuzz,
he'll run around, he always does,
and if he scores, the avid fan
believes it's all some master plan.
Fast forward
Pacemaker fitted,
poo tests for cancer,
whatever became
of that once great romancer.
Regular health checks,
heart rate is naughty
and as for my pulse,
it's two hundred and forty!

The sex life, once active
I thought was forever,
Is slowly declining
from rarely, to never.
Each new health crisis
brings on hypertension,
I should have skipped childhood,
moved straight to my pension!
%d bloggers like this: