Health

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The Inland Revenue letter

Dear Mr Hobbo,
Here is your pension,
on receipt of which
it is timely to mention,
the rules that forbid
you a normal sex life,
when according to info
received from your wife,
you are still fairly active,
which as you can see,
is clearly forbidden
in para. three C.


Now you've retired
please accept at your age
that there is no employment,
even minimum wage.
So put up your feet,
and turn on the TV,
savour your cocoa,
between you and me,
I am jealous to bits,
and holding back tears,
because I've still to work
for the next forty years.
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Here we go again

You used to talk to me, and bring me flowers.
You would listen. We'd make love for hours.

Hours, who you kidding. I could soft boil the eggs.
It's a bit of a turn-off, fat hairy legs.

How can you talk, with all that up your nose.
It helps hide the stink of the smoke on your clothes.

What bloody cheek, you smell like the cat.
You moody old mare, you vicious old bat.

Listen at old Mr Grumpy himself.
Cheeky sod, go take a look at yourself.

Well, another love filled end to the year.
Oops I forgot. Happy Anniversary, my dear.
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End of life care

She was ninety two,
paralysed
and incontinent.
Communicated
by blinking
her wish to expire.
She died alone,
gasping 
and in agony,
when a God
she no longer believed in
decided she could.

He was very old,
way past his prime.
Lost his zest for life.
No quality of life.
Surrounded by loved ones,
he was 
put to sleep
with dignity,
peacefully,
painlessly,
by the vet.
Photo by Jeremy Wong on Pexels.com
Royal Marriages

I've been married for fourty four years,
And I don't go a bothering you.
Stay out of the media then, my dears,
It's the least little thing you can do.

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The Yorksher Blues

My rhubarb won't grow, it's the wrong kind of soil.
My moped is slow, and my car's leaking oil.
My snake ate my cake, so now she can't coil.
My new metal kettle, has melted, won't boil.
I'm bluer than my tattoos,
I've got me those Yorksher blues.

My dog's chewed my clogs, and he's spewed on the floor.
My cat's run away with the tomcat next door.
My sister's a mister, whose wife is a whore.
I'm a medical miracle close to death's door.
I'm bluer than my tattoos,
I've got me those Yorksher blues.

My missus insists, she won't leave, don't ask why?
I know that her beau is a really nice guy.
I have seen, she is keen, and I can't tell a lie,
Just leave me alone, in my home, and I'll die.
I'm bluer than my tattoos,
I've got me those Yorksher blues.
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A timekeeping bargain

A pain in the crotch
Life, where does it go?
With our time travel watch
You can go fast, or slow.

Set it to your own pace,
Even temporary stop.
The deluxe, will retrace,
So your clogs never pop.
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com
The morning after

A pass at the glass, and I know I'm in trouble.
Red road maps my eyes, out of focus as Hubble.
I can't raise a grin, scratchy skin full of stubble.
Last night, it felt right. It was hell of a party.
Six shots on the trot, tried to prove me a smarty.
I should have said no, but I had to have doubles,
To drink like a fish, with a fistful of bubbles.

This morning, I'm yawning, but I've work in an hour.
Heads a shed, feet like lead, as I crawl in the shower.
Whisky breath, I am death, with a tongue tasting sour.
Soap, does its work, as I splash it all over.
Can't face any food, but I'll beat this hangover.
Laughter, day after? No, I'm dull, done for, dour
No great loss. I'm the boss. I'm the guy with the power.
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Life

Transient as
a wet tyre track
on sunwarmed tarmac.
Fleeting as
the first snow of winter.
Evanescent as
electricity in a battery.
Transitory as
the twin towers.
Ephemeral as
early morning dew.
Short lived as
a shooting star.
Cursory as
a nod from a stranger.

Invaluable as
a Picasso painting.
Dear as
a diamond anniversary.
Inestimable as
insects on earth.
Precious as
your new born baby.

We have only one
and it melts in the sun.
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The Nurse

Her frail body
clutched at the
crisp cotton sheets.
I mopped her brow.

Her lungs gasped,
fighting for air.

Her tiny hand
squeezed mine
as I bent down
to hear what she said.

Don't let me die, nurse,
she whispered.

The ventilator
was ineffective.
The drugs
were not working.

I gave her
all that I had.
I gave her
my love.
It was not enough.
Old age pensioner

Today, I get O.A.P status
A tribute to my apparatus.
It's downhill from here,
After sixty six year,
My hernia is at a hiatus.
Photo by Jimmy Chan on Pexels.com
Loyalty

Grocer Jack
In cul-de-sac
Head full of smack
Tripped on a crack
On his way back
From the 'Duck with no Quack'.

This maniac
Was taken aback
Fell with a whack
Causing crise cardiaque.
Revived with a snack
And a double cognac
From a girl in a sack
Whose dad was named Jack.
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These Hands

These hands
have deprived a man of his liberty,
yet
saved a babies life.

These hands
helped to drown my troubles
but
put food on the family table.

These hands
buried my parents
and
held my new born son.

These hands
inspired loyalty
yet
betrayed a trust.

These hands committed sin
then 
prayed for forgiveness.

These hands 
fought for my life
and
made sweet love.

These hands
have written eulogies
but
created poetry.

These hands
are human.
They make mistakes,
But they are my hands.
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You were a tender lover

You were a tender lover,
Attentive, thoughtful, kind.
Why would I want another?
The last thing on my mind.

It was a whirlwind romance,
Two short months, then wed.
Didn't really get the chance
To hear what others said.

Then, the violence started,
Subtle, but my fault.
Should've left, departed,
Called a stop, a halt.

You hit me, yet you love me,
Well how perverse is that?
You're jealous of the fellers
I see behind your back.

It's only drink that's talking,
Makes you resort to force.
Why then, are you stalking,
If you don't want divorce.

The sorry that comes after,
The crappy bunch of flowers.
You shrug it off with laughter,
And say that love is ours.

Tonight, another beating,
Broken bones and worse
But, it's my fault for cheating,
"Say nothing to the nurse."

In 'A and E', I'm treated,
I tripped, fell down the stairs.
Behind the lies retreated,
From their suspicious stares.

Cops try to prosecute you
And I refuse to press.
Off we go, the loving two,
To more cheap flowers, I guess.

You crossed a line this evening,
One last, one final time,
As the ambulance is leaving,
I gasp, arrest, flat-line.

I hit you, cos I love you
Didn't mean to use the knife
Now, you've gone and ruined
My sad, self-centred life.
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My Engine

When I was younger
I'd go for a spin.
So great was my hunger,
I'd drive to Berlin.

As I got older,
Hand on my heart,
The engine was colder,
I'd need a bump start.

The motor got mucky,
First starts, then it stops.
Sometimes I'd be lucky
To get to the shops.

Now, seized and rusty,
Where once it all shone,
My tried and my trusty
Has got up and gone.
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Equality

The king is dead, long live the king
So those heraldic angels sing.
Here lies he, in princely state,
Mortal man, to whom his fate,
Death that leveler of us all,
Cares not for goods, for wherewithal.

No difference makes, for rank, or status.
Keeps for each, this forced hiatus.
What use now those jewels, that wealth?
Lost is that youth, that life, that health.
Our time is precious, borrowed must
Be handed over. We to dust.
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The Medical

There's snow on the hills
And I've taken my pills.
The psychiatrist thinks me quite sane.
The pigs in the sky,
Yes I know they can't fly,
But they're taking a test just the same.

The voice in my head
That is never quite dead,
Is singing a sad kind of ditty.
I try to write songs
Yet they come out all wrong,
All clangers and smash, more's the pity.

I've got an IQ
Of a hundred and two,
Which puts me, ahead of a half-wit.
I'm friends with the Queen
And my washing machine,
But give me a dollar, I'd halve it.

I live on the moon
With an ageing baboon
Who is wanted in five different countries.
My favourite meal
Is strawberry peel
Which I harvest each autumn from plum trees.

The doc's here again.
She insists, I am sane.
She has the last laugh, no disputing.
The stupid old lush,
I'm as daft as a brush.
Speak to my grandma, Rasputin.

Tick-Tock, round the clock,
I need a new frock.
Tear drop, splobalop, I am barmy.
Boogaloo bongos, 
Dingos and drongos,
I don't want to play in your army.
Photo by Chris J Mitchell on Pexels.com
Bones

These bones of mine
Are bone idle.
They never move a muscle.

I get on fine
With nerves, I find
But they're a real opuscle.

I could fall out,
Say bones, get out
Get veritably stroppy.

But I suppose
Without them bones,
I'd be a body floppy.
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Hairdressing

My lockdown locks are really, truly
Wild, disheveled, long, unruly.
Scruffy, fluffy, dizzy, frizzy,
In the way when I am busy.

Hairdressing, classed non-essential,
Even Barnets presidential
Are growing, flowing, running wild,
Awkward as a naughty child.

What I'd give to have it cut
Smart again, so I could strut
Down the high street, head held high,
Bien coiffé, a butterfly.

Bien coiffé, well groomed hair
Barnet, UK slang for hair
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It's not enough

To hope
that we are more tolerant
than our parents.
Ce n'est pas assez
Do it today.

To hope
that the planet
will not succumb
to global warming.
Ce n'est pas assez
Do it today.

To hope
that justice
will be done.
Ce n'est pas assez
Do it today.

To hope
for 
a brighter future.
Ce n'est pas assez
Do it today.

To hope that
anything
will change.
Ce n'est pas assez
Do it today.
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Hell's Kitchen

Beelzebub, the Devil
Searched for souls to roast
he put them in his Breville
And cooked beings on toast.
Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com
Another Lockdown Ditty

It's hard to be inspired
Whilst we're in lockdown mode
I'm getting rather tired
Of treading that same road.

But when lockdown is over
There'll be no stopping me
Like a honeybee in clover
I'll have so much to see.
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The Pharmacy

Queued for an hour
Quite in distress
Needing my tablets
To help me de-stress.

Along comes an addict
For Methadone say
Knocks at a side door
Is seen straight away.

Now if I were a chemist
Between me and you
Other people come first
And the junkies could queue.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Priceless

Do you borrow money, or are you a lender
Are you a hoarder, or a flashy big spender
Save it, or crave it, spend the lot on a bender
Blow all on a posh frock, regardless of gender?

Are you living in poverty, scraping away
Trying your best to survive on just one meal a day
Or, like Midas, does all that is gold come your way
And, rich as Croesus, is it nothing but play?

Is money your God, do you pray at its altar
Do you value friends, or is this where you falter
Your be all, and end all, your reason for being
If something is missing, what are you not seeing?

Yes it's love, it is love, it's what makes the world spin
And when you are in love, then it should be win-win
There is no substitute for the love in your life
Be it children or lovers (or even your wife)!
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Heartbeats

Two billion each
lub-dub, lub-dub
From cradle to grave
lub-dub, lub-dub
Tender as peach
lub-dub, lub-dub
Worn as a cave
lub-dub, lub-dub

You've stolen mine
lub-dub, lub-dub
Broken in two
lub-dub, lub-dub
Sad celandine
lub-dub, lub-dub
My final tattoo
lub--------
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Things to do lists

His, during covid lockdown
1.  Shave
2.  Shower
3.  Fed
4.  Watch telly
5.  Bed

Hers, during covid lockdown
1.  Clean
2.  Cook
3.  Wash
4.  Shop
5.  Vac
6.  Dust
7.  Iron
8.  Drop

His, after covid lockdown
1.  Get shave
2.  Get shower
3.  Get fed
4.  Watch telly
5.  Go to bed

Hers, after covid lockdown
1.  Buy a season ticket, can they survive the drop?
2.  Jimmy Choo's size seven, from that designer shop.
3.  Book foreign holiday, in Italy or Spain.
4.  Ring up Bob the Builder, to fix that window pane. 
5.  Meet my friends for coffee, a catch-up, and a chat.
6.  Renew my gym subscription, got to lose this fat.
7.  Take my mother shopping, but must be M and S.
8.  Judy could come with us, and pick herself a dress.
9.  New nail bar in Blackburn, it's doing two for one.
10.  While I'm being pampered, I'll have my Barnet done.
11.  Join local theatre group, for social intercourse.
12.  Tell my useless husband, I'm filing for divorce. 

M and S, Marks and Spencers, a UK shop
Barnet, cockney rhyming slang for hair.
Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com
Be careful what you wish for

2020
Brexit hogs the headlines
Brexit every day
Brexit with it's deadlines
Please make it go away.

2021
Covid's killed so many
Randomly it slew
What I'd give for any
Piece of Brexit news.
Photo by Daniel Reche on Pexels.com
Membership

She joined the ramblers club
A group for gentle walking
Mistakenly believing
They met, for non stop talking.
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com
My sensitive senses

I have five senses
So I'm told
Which function less
As I grow old.

I'm deaf without my
Hearing aids
And use thick specs
As sight degrades.

My taste relies on
My false teeth.
For touch, my skull
has things beneath.

These stop me shaking
Which leaves smell
Best ask my wife
She's sure to tell.
Photo by Flo Dahm on Pexels.com
Peg leg Pete

Of my two legs
I've but one good un',
The other peg
Is false, it's wooden.

Comparison
If I'd to choose
The artificial
Holds more booze.

In Winter time
It's good as gold
Come frost or rime
It's never cold.

I see a brawl
I'm off, I hop it
So, all in all
I wouldn't swap it.


Photo by Anni Roenkae on Pexels.com
Just do it

You
are as unique
as a flake of snow
though
equally ethereal.

Live now
fully, quickly
before
that melt-water.

Not tomorrow
it may not
arrive.

Today
do it
make
that metaphorical
skydive.
Photo by JESSICA TICOZZELLI on Pexels.com
Coincidence or Consequence

Fat woman orders
super-sized meal.
Coincidence or consequence?

Drug addict
sleeps on park bench.
Coincidence or consequence?

Lottery winner
desperately lonely.
Coincidence or consequence?

Child abuser
raped in jail.
Coincidence or consequence?

Workaholic
dies at desk.
Coincidence or consequence?

Politicians
not trusted.
Coincidence or consequence?

Non judgmental people
live happier lives.
Coincidence or consequence?
Photo by TUBARONES PHOTOGRAPHY on Pexels.com
Transient as a train timetable

Babies have potential
Though don't yet know their fate
And adults are but children
Beyond their best by date.

We look into the future
Yet dwell upon the past
But life is here, right now
And it's not meant to last.

Photo by Lay Low on Pexels.com
Winning the lottery

I'm more than delighted
Extremely excited
Shout it out? No, I could yelp it!
I am over the moon
And I shouldn't croon
Honestly, I can not help it.

I can now break the rules
It's like winning the pools
Buying myself a home brew kit.
I am king of the hill
I'm top of the bill
I really am going to milk it.

Christmas and birthday
Rolled up into one day
Lucky! I can not believe it!
The call said, get there
They had vaccine to spare
I've beaten that Covid, achieved it!
Photo by Natasha Spencer on Pexels.com
The best diet ever

Revolutionary guillotine diet
One hundred percent verify it
Is sure to delight
Will cut appetite
Cause instant weight loss
With no need to floss
A rip off, it ain't
Not a single complaint.
Photo by Gilberto Olimpio on Pexels.com
An Elegy

Here fly the ashes
of Hobbo the Poet.
Life's clock had stopped
before he could slow it.

Elegy written
in case he got ill.
Nothing to leave you
don't look for a will.
Photo by NEOSiAM 2021 on Pexels.com
Friday night fatality

Blue lights.
Fist fights.
Fast cars.
Packed bars.
Shrill two-tones
Broken bones.
Thunderstorms.
Uniforms.
Emergencies
to A and E.
Bare flesh teaser.
Pavement pizza.
Takeaway smells good.
Busted nose spits blood.
Glance wrong, teenage spat.
What you's looking at?
Vicious looking flick knifes.
Liberated housewives.
Atmosphere electric.
Not again, she's been sick.
Need a leak, take a piss.
All week, work for this.
Feel ill, too much drink.
Bog full, piss in sink.
Cops here, take names.
Stiff them, play games.
Now feeling ill.
I pop a pill.
Final sup.
All fucked up.
Thumping head.
Some guys dead.
All flee
Scot-free
Shit's sake
It's me...

Photo by Monica Silvestre on Pexels.com
This is not a rehearsal

The grazing cow, the harvest mouse
Fear not, the blood red slaughterhouse.
When first a dog looks on your face
She looks for love, not creed or race.

The giant crab or basking skate
They worry not about their fate.
Foresight, it's the curse of man
To know that there's no master plan.

This fear of life, to us unique
Curtails our dreams and makes us weak.
Ephemeral as our beans on toast
Shed those shackles, lay that ghost.
Photo by Nita on Pexels.com
Excuse Me!

Natural, but unsociable
are those ill-disciplined
enough to think acceptable
to let loose their trapped wind.
Photo by Pranidchakan Boonrom on Pexels.com
Our cunning plan

No procrastination!
Even if you disagree
Please get your vaccination
For we have no great 'plan B'.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Bloodlines

My old man is lying here
I visit him, but once a year
Twenty years this blokes been dead
And still he's messing with my head.

Parents nurturing and kind
for me a joke, they screw your mind
I'm not like them,and God forbid
That I should ever hurt the kids.

Am I any better though?
Ask my boys, for I don't know.
Photo by Ekrulila on Pexels.com
The Exemption Certificate

This is to certify that the holder of this certificate is exempt from

Work related exertions;
manual or retail
or office bound with email.

Worry;
health, wealth, finance
family or romance.

Possessions;
financial or property
snubs to abject poverty.

Physical activities;
Everything in real life
Anything but still life.

I further certify that the owner of this certificate is dead.
Evan Chewly
Photo by Nithin PA on Pexels.com
You're having a laugh!

A problem, I had
I was losing my grip
Visit the toilet
Then, permanent drip,

You're having a laugh!
Come on, don't deny it.
Urologist grinned
Just try it, just try it.

When you are finished
before you re-dress
Reach behind goolies
Between your legs, press.

It works every time
Don't know why, don't know how
And who really cares?
I've got dry undies, now!
Photo by Nataliya Vaitkevich on Pexels.com
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Hidden abuse

calculating
abhorrent            
guilty                   
manipulative                         
paedophile             

          
     scarred                  
                betrayed                 
traumatised      
ashamed     
marginalised                                    
children                      
Photo by Kat Jayne on Pexels.com
Golden?

The silence
of a life cut short
tragically, too brief.

The silence
of a bereaved mum
overwhelmed with grief.

The silence
of the couple
lost in their own thoughts.

The silent 
tear she sheds
when he asks for divorce.

The silent
look of horror
before that bomb explodes.

The silent
sign she gives
as she steps into the road.

Those silent
games they played
that went beyond pretend.

This silence
is forever
no beginning and no end.

Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com
Who are you?

Do you see the brilliance of the diamond
  or notice the dust on the skirting board?

Do you hear the birds singing in the trees
  or the harassed woman screaming at her kids?

Do you taste the rounded flavour of the wine
  or the bitter tannins in the alcohol beneath?

Do you touch the ones you love, with tenderness
  or hit out at those who hurt you?

Do you smell the fresh cut grass on a spring lawn
  or the odour of dogs who have made their presence known?

Do you view the countryside in all its glory
  or see the litter thrown thoughtlessly away?

Do you hear a choir of angels in the morning
  or joints complaining as you cry yourself to sleep?

Do you taste the lightness of the pastry
  or does the sour taste of failure haunt your mouth?

Do you touch each moment with a thank you
  or do you feel that hand of fickle fate?

Do you smell the flowers in your garden
  or the scent of time that's passed you by?

Do you love life what'er the situation
  or suffer life and take your medication?
Photo by Julie Viken on Pexels.co
May affect less than 1 in 10

Eye pain or rainbow vision!
Intermittent, blurring vision!

Yellow eyes or yellow skin!
Constipation! Vomiting!

Drowsiness and sleepiness!
Dizzyness or shakiness!

Trouble with my flexion!
Problems with erection!

Weight loss! Weight gain!
Blocked nose and bladder pain!

Difficulties sleeping!
Changes in my speaking!

Hair loss! Milk loss!
Telling folk to get lost!

Tinnitus! Convulsions!
Rashes or confusion!

Numbness! Tingling!
Fear of social mingling!

Sensitive to sunlight!
Wet bed! Is that right?

Such a wide variety
Has brought on my anxiety!

Prescribed me by my doc
These pills leave me in shock!
Photo by mali maeder on Pexels.com
Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?

Cowardly killer, dubbed number nineteen
Despicable, your sick form of roulette
Mindless bug, reaping death, obscene.

We'll wash our hands,we'll fight you clean
Whilst there is hope, we are not beaten yet
Cowardly killer, dubbed number nineteen.

So many bodies, it's almost routine
Shadowy form, with no silhouette
Mindless bug, reaping death, obscene.

Perverted agenda, to kill human beings
Fresh strains now to aid and abet
Cowardly killer, dubbed number nineteen.

Locked down again, stuck, quarantine
Not beaten though, you're a martinet
Mindless bug, reaping death, obscene.

We'll whup your arse with the new vaccine
What use then, is your global threat
Cowardly killer, dubbed number nineteen
Mindless bug, reaping death, obscene.
Photo by Tembela Bohle on Pexels.com
Gerry Marsden, how did you do it?

His ferry has finally crossed
His dreams are all tossed and blown
Though the fans on the Kop may be lost
Gerry, you will never walk alone.
Gerry Marsden MBE, lead singer of Gerry and the
Pacemakers has died at the age of 78.  The
group had several hits including, 'How do you do it?'
'Ferry, Cross the Mersey' and 'You'll never walk alone'.
'You'll never walk alone' became a football terrace anthem for the kop of his hometown club, Liverpool. RIP.

Kop, the name for the home supprter's terrace
 at Liverpool FC
Photo by Seatizen.co on Pexels.com
Black Clouds

Woke up.
Didn't want to.
In a foul mood.
Another resolution
wasted.
Challenged God
to take me.
Didn't work.
Head thumping.
Stomach
washer-ing.
Limbs trembling.
Feel awful.
Covid?
Don't think so.
More like
death.
Drag myself up.
Walk/crawl to bathroom.
Head bowed.
Let me die.
Please God!
I hate hangovers.
Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com
New Covid Rules

Snow White
is in Tier 4
and according
to the law
can only bubble
with one chappie
and he's a dwarf
but he is Happy!
Photo by Tina Nord on Pexels.com
RIP Pierre

Monsieur Cardin
Popped les clogs
Il est dans le jardin
Avec ses chiens

Designer Cardin
Popped his clogs
He is in the garden
With his dogs.

Dauphy: Pierre Cardin, the colourful French designer has died?

Hobbo: Yesterday.

Dauphy: Very sad. Popped les clogs! That’s not French!

Hobbo: No, but it’s funny.

Dauphy: You think so? I have my reputation to think about. Popped les clogs!

Photo by RF._.studio on Pexels.com
We found a cure!

She worked day after day and with vigour
Selfless unstinting and tireless
To stop radios being de rigueur
And cure the disease, 'Own a Wireless.'


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Tomato Soup

As the whole of the ward
Grew redder and redder
Doc wrote in his notes
Tom's a Heinz Souper Spreader.
Photo by Lucas Guimaru00e3es on Pexels.com
What's in a name?

Arsenal star Martinelli
Had hair styled by fan, Marty Nelly
Mildly amusing
What's really confusing
Their tattooist of choice, Martin Ellie.
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com
What makes you think I'm deaf?

Your lunch is ready!
Freddie, who is Freddie?

It's lunch, it's on the table!
Mabel, when did you see Mabel?

Do you want to eat or not?
Ah, now you call me clot!

God, this is sooo frustrating!
Whaddya' mean, I need castrating?

Put your flipping aids in!
You're rooting for a Saints win?

Where did I go wrong?
Can I sing a song?

Jeez, I've had enough!
I heard that, I'm not deaf!

You hear when you've a hard on!
That's rude, I heard that, pardon?
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com
The health check

You need to cut down on the fags old man
Forty a day is too many
Reducing to twenty would be a good start
Though really, you shouldn't have any.

I'll just check your blood pressure now, if I may
My, my, that's a hundred and forty
If you weren't a key worker, I'd put you on sick
Your whole way of life is so naughty.

You are heading towards diabetic
With all those mince pies that you eat
And alcohol isn't a staple
When you have it, it should be a treat.

I'll give you a jab for the virus
But, be careful, should not go unsaid
And once your deliveries are finished
I suggest that you go back to bed.

That's the end of your annual check up
I hope you pay heed to my banter
Your lifestyle must alter completely
Or next year, there will not be a Santa.
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Bye Bye Barbara

Dame Barbara Windsor's gone
It's such a Carry On
Star of soap's Eastenders
Her giggly grin befriends us
So true, and in the end though
We'll miss her innuendo.

Actress Dame Barbara Windsor, 
star of Carry On films, 
and UK soap opera Eastenders, 
died today aged 83. RIP

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Doctor

"Has my son's arm been broken?"
She sought their expert views
The doctor, quietly spoken
Said, "Yes, it's breaking news."
Photo by Mike on Pexels.com
Where is he?

Here lies a coffin
Full of old bricks
Harry Houdini
Played one of his tricks.

Photo by Thirdman on Pexels.com
Vaccine

Listen here Covid 19
We've got a brand new vaccine
You may feel that you've got your charms
But we're having shots in our arms.
Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com
Bullying

Here lies the body
Of little Big Ears
Murdered by Noddy
And bullied for years.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com
Anguish

Imagine
your first thought
in a morning
every morning
before your eyes
are even open
is shit
I'm alive
again.

Now try
and move on
from there.
It's exhausting.


Photo by Mike on Pexels.com
RIP Mike

Here lies the body
Of motorist Mike
Doing a ton
And forgot to think bike.
Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com
Happiness

Happiness
a state of mind
depending
on nothing
but
a state of mind.
Photo by Mike on Pexels.com
RIP Jennifer

Here lies the body
Of Jennifer Dyer
Nylon nightie
Met open fire.

Photo by Mike on Pexels.com
RIP Mabel

Here lies the body
Of Mabel Moon
Misread the label
As tablespoon.
Photo by Lina Kivaka on Pexels.com
Autumn

Autumn's reached, now we've retired
Athletes shot, who've run their race
No need for claims that we're inspired
At work, not told to watch our place.

For forty years we've done our share
We put our shoulders to the plough
No more mortgage, no more care
It's time for some enjoyment now.

Kids are gone, we've scraped some savings
We even get our pensions paid
Shall we now indulge our cravings
Spend this little pot we've made.

A cottage would be great, but face it
We haven't got enough my dear
A brand new car, so Scamp can chase it
Frivolous, I hear you sneer.

We've talked at length, discussion's done
Ambitious plans, and things beneath
It's not a holiday in the sun
It's hearing aids and brand new teeth.
Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy on Pexels.com
My Body

I don't like my ears, I hate my nose
My weight, my face, my hair, my tum
My voice, my hands, my knees, my toes
But I quite admire my bum.
Photo by Helena Lopes on Pexels.com
Greedy girl

She ate a considerable eyeful
A veritable tower of trifle
Got cramps in her belly
From all that red jelly
Which the greedy girl struggled to stifle.
Photo by Magda Ehlers on Pexels.com
Ears

It might cause ringing
But let's face facts
What is so lyrical
About ears full of wax.
Photo by Kate Amos on Pexels.com
A Spectacle

Eyes, the window to our soul
But glasses let me see the hole
into which I nearly fell
Where's my specs, oh bloody hell!
Photo by Dominique Nelson-Esch on Pexels.com
Hurry Up!

Dinner's on the table
Frustration in that shout
Be down in just a minute
The turtle's head's popped out.
Photo by Jeswin Thomas on Pexels.com
Loneliness

human company
unappreciated
until we are lonely.
Photo by Ami Suhzu on Pexels.com
Seventy
He made his appearance one Tuesday
Supposedly child full of grace
The lad had hung on for a day
Because Monday is child fair of face.

Born in the year 1950
To a mum who was very contented
She swaddled her son in a bin bag
Lucky boy, they had just been invented.

The new I.P.A had been formed
That's the thing for police not the beer
Shirley Temple announced her retirement
So it promised to be a good year.

The Archers began in that year
Uruguay had won the World Cup
And what with the birth of young Tony
Things were generally thought on the up.

A new comic, The Eagle, was published
For boys with its hero Dan Dare
Billy Ocean had his first appearance
But the going was tough to be fair.

Billy Ocean competed with Tony
A lad with an eye for the girls
Tony talked money, had patter
Poor Billy had only his curls.

A bit of success with the ladies
But his marriages didn't go right
So sad for a working class hero
Though try and deny this he might.

At Bruche he was called Albert Wangford
And delighted in taking the piss
Gang of four with his three other buddies
Was something he just could not miss.

The one thing that makes Tony proud
Is his entrepreneurial flair
If one of his schemes ever makes it
Then he'll be a millionaire.

His book that would keep your new bike safe
Another to help you to slim
The cycle idea was a washout
And the diet did not work for him.

Now that he's managed to reach seventy
We should all celebrate, you'll agree
The best thing that's happened to Tony
Meeting his partner, young Fi.
Photo by Mark Vegera on Pexels.com
The Wreck

Implants for mouth
Aids to help hearing
Feel like a car
Relentlessly nearing
End of its life
Dear to maintain
Cost more and more
Money down drain
Unlike the motor
Can't trade me in
Stuck with this body
Pass me that gin.

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Granddad
Granddad is so old now
His back has got a crick
I think my Gramps was born
When the Dead Sea first got sick.
Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com
The Abuser
You have
A way of saying sorry
Which makes me feel
Like it's my fault.
Photo by Juan Vargas on Pexels.com
The daydreamer
Here lies the body 
Of Emily Spode
Distracted by life
As she crossed the main road.
Photo by GEORGE DESIPRIS on Pexels.com
The Truth
Back at the dentist again
She says, "Can you handle the tooth?"
"Please cut out the jokes, I'm in pain
Give it me straight, what's the truth?"

"Well, you need yet another extraction
The tooth has to go, I'm afraid."
"That's the fourth one this year," my reaction
"Do you think it's of money I'm made?"

"You're going to need something to chew on
Unless you like soup in a cup
I can make you some dentures to glue on
Or get some posh implants knocked up."

Well, teeth in a jar I don't fancy
To be kept, just in case, by the door
So call me a bit of a Nancy
But the implants are what I went for.

It costs though an arm and also a leg
The answer's crowd funding I know
If I do this then I won't need to beg
I'll call the page gobbo for Hobbo.

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The Widow
when you promised
till death us do part
I never thought
it would happen.
Photo by Polina Tankilevitch on Pexels.com
Photo by u041fu0430u0432u0435u043b u0421u043eu0440u043eu043au0438u043d on Pexels.com
The surgeon
She worked with precision
And no supervision
Until the collision
As she made her incision
Led to circumcision
An unwanted division
Result, her derision.

Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com
Rest in Peace
Here lies the body
Of Benjamin Doyle
Whose nurse got mixed up
When they said prick his boil.

...............ouch!
Photo by Eric Cheng on Pexels.com
Not Me
A talented sculptor, artistic
With a lifestyle, described hedonistic
Thin as a waif
Assumed he was safe
From Covid, is one more statistic.
Photo by Rosemary Ketchum on Pexels.com
Democracy
More dead from Covid nineteen
Than were killed in fourteen-eighteen
Second World War, Vietnam
And still this man don't give a damn.

Democracy, well that's a joke
The wishes of ordinary folk
Discounted on merely a whim
But not if you voted for him.
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Roses
Ring a ring o' roses
Cover mouths and noses
Hospital full, before the cull
We're all locked down.
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com
Girl Power
Remember, remember, the fifth of November
The U.K's in lock-down again
To beat this disease, sack all the M.P's
Put a woman in charge, with a brain.

Photo by Life Of Pix on Pexels.com
Best holiday ever
We should never have chosen off peak
It was raining, the car sprang a leak
David squashed granny's best hat
Baby Alfie was sick on the cat.

On the moors, dad ran over a ram
An hour later, we're stuck in a jam
We got there too late for the ferry
Mum found the bar and got merry.

We arrived there to find we'd left gran
At the caff, with a man from Japan
Our five star was under construct
And all of the rooms double booked.

The bathroom and toilet were dirty
The waiters and waitresses shirty
My purse and my handbag got nicked
And our sightseeing coaches were bricked.

The food gave young Lucy the trots
And Christopher broke out in spots
German measles, our french doctor said
And confined him to ten days in bed.

Paragliding, my mum sprained her back
Sadly, dad had a mild heart attack
We learned from a broker named Khalid
Our insurance was no longer valid.

Going home, despite begging and pleading
Dad got a ticket for speeding
When the copper told dad he could start
Our tyres were as flat as a fart.

Once home, track-traced for Covid 19
So then, yes you've guessed, quarantine
And because we are now isolating
This vacation gets zero star rating.
Photo by mali maeder on Pexels.com
Locked Down
On a planet that is unrecognisable
A lock-down is becoming advisable
Some follow the rules
A few act like fools
Whilst for others, the subject's divisible.

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Affection
You are the butter on my bread
The salt upon my chips
I'll love you till you're dead
Despite your dodgy hips.

And you're the sugar in my tea
The cream upon my pie
Though your undies smell of wee
I will love you till I die.
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Lockdown
I want a circuit breaker
I'm in a tier three town
I'm up for anything
That brings my leccy down.

Leccy is slang for electricity or electricity bill
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Farewell
Rock on Tommy
Funny faces
Made us laugh
With trademark braces.

Comedy legend
Missed by all
Gone forever
Bobby Ball.
Photo by Micael Widell on Pexels.com
What's Covid?
Here lies the body 
Of Caroline Crump
Coronavirus denier
Who listened to Trump.
Photo by Dids on Pexels.com
Diagnosis
"Water on the brain,"
So the doctor said
"Don't worry," she explained
"A quick tap on the head."
Photo by Sebastian Voortman on Pexels.com
The Black Dog
You are the sunshine of my life
You are, you really are
Why does it keep raining then
My little superstar?
Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com
Pandemic
Is a pandemic
Systemic
Of too many
Pans
On the planet
It can't
Mean that
Can it?




Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Vanishing Youth
You are no longer in your youth
So I'll remove that pesky tooth
I know there's wisdom in it
But we're going to have to bin it.

Brace yourself for this injection
I'll get rid of your infection
And the toothache that was raging
Is now a gap, first signs of ageing.

Your mouth will start to droop
But you can have a little soup
Now, if you're feeling better
Here's my bill and thank you letter.

Photo by Juan Vargas on Pexels.com
Mrs Mopp
Here lies the body
Of Madeleine Mopp
The sign wasn't 'Give Way'
It was quite clearly 'Stop.'
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Dear Diary
Monday dentist, Tuesday doctor's
(Socially apart)
Wednesday have my hearing checked
Thursday, specialist for my heart.

Friday, get my toupee cleaned
Saturday, food from shops
Sunday, Covid lockdown
And all my pleasure stops.
Photo by Inzmam Khan on Pexels.com
Depression
I love my sons
I love my wife
I love my dog
I love my life.

Why is it then
If I'm so blessed
That once again
I'm damn depressed.

Get out of my mind...I hate you.
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com
Eternity
Eternal dark, eternal light
No one can be certain
If our eternal soul takes flight
When life, closes it's curtain.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Insomnia
House is asleep
Apart from me
I've counted sheep
I've been for a pee.

Sheets in a heap
Partner snoring
She is in deep
God this is boring.

It's just turned three
Street's so quiet
I'll make some tea
And sod the diet.

Tea did not work
Gave me heartburn
Feel such a berk
Will I never learn?

Read till I ache
Just start to drift
Shaken awake
"You're on early shift."
Photo by Ethan Brooke on Pexels.com
Holiday
I am not dead, I will not die
And Covid won't beat me because
When this is over, then I'll fly
For six weeks holiday to Oz
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Photo by Mike on Pexels.com
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com
The Flu Jab

Oh, it's good to be alive
I'm really quite excited
At the age of sixty five
For my flu jab, I'm invited.

The nurse (Fat and gum-chewing)
Drew a target on my bum
Asked, "What do you think you're doing?"
Replied, "It's social distance chum."

My trembling arm she grabbed
And joked,"Don't worry matey
The last one that I stabbed
I scored the max, one eighty."

So, now I'm flu resistant
I should be feeling cool
But, Covid's more persistent
And I'm nobody's fool.


Photo by Edward Jenner on Pexels.com
Covid
Often a target for bullies
Not the handsomest kid in the shop
But over the last month or so
The teasing has come to a stop.

Now, I can join in with the others
"Why's that?" you might very well ask
Well, it's thanks to the outbreak of Covid
You see, I look great in a mask.


Photo by Irina Iriser on Pexels.com
Warning Labels
'Smoking kills,' Sally read on the packet
As she bent down to pick up her litter
So engrossed, she did not hear the racket
Of the thirty ton lorry that hit her.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com
Coronavirus Days
In happier days
To paraphrase
Folk led a great existence
Now they deep clean
Covid 19
And keep their social distance.



Photo by Nandhu Kumar on Pexels.com
My mum, and Covid
My mum has turned ninety, so I cannot go
And visit her care home, to just say "hello."
I can sell my house,to a stranger it seems
Or play golf in the park with the man of my dreams.

If I go to the shops, I keep six feet apart
But try telling that to the silly old fart
Who blocks up the aisle whilst he's choosing his bread
Move you old git, or I might end up dead.

I can't see my mum, and that really hurts
But we all have to act upon what the experts
Say is the best way to beat this disease
No, Mr Trump, don't blame the Chinese.

Every Thursday night then, I'll go out and clap
Our great N.H.S who deserve a backslap
For all their hard work, and when it's all done
I'll raise a glass of champagne, to my mum, ninety-one.


Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Growing Old

The memory is shot
Hands constantly shake
Am I losing the plot?
My joints always ache.
I've lost most of my teeth
And all of my hair
What lies underneath
That oft vacant stare?

A distant daydream
Of fond souvenirs
Or deaf as I seem
Just wax in my ears.
It's not by design
I accumulate ills.
I've turned infantine
On tablets and pills.

Lotions and potions
Towel and pad
Even my motions
Examined, how sad.  

And as for the sex
Of those halcyon days
I'll just get my specs
And read what it says
On this bottle I've got
The writing's so small
What a load of old rot
Viagra cures all.


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