It is reported that boys at Exeter Academy went to school in skirts on account of the exceptionally hot weather.
In Exeter just like elsewhere,
The weather has been pretty fair,
In fact if I my words mince not,
It has been pretty bloody hot!
This prompted boys there at the school,
To ask to please relax the rule,
That says they can’t attend in shorts –
They wear them anyway for sports.
The headmaster said, “Sorry, no!
When it is time to school to go,
Your pants must come below the knees –
You cannot just do as you please.”
The students said, “Oh very well,
But wearing trousers is just hell;
If you want us to stay alert,
Each one of us will wear a skirt.”
Of course the school could not object,
And would have to be circumspect,
’Cos banning these at any rate,
Would be said to discriminate.
So all the boys arrived at school,
All feeling doubly rather cool,
Because the skirts which are first-rate,
Helped them to better ventilate.
The weather’s turned though now I fear,
And so you will not likely hear,
More stories written in this vein,
’Cos probably it’s set to rain!
It is reported that the EU is insisting that the Belgians change their recipe for making chips so as to avoid the formation of acrylamide which is bad for health.
The Belgians always fry chips twice,
Which is what makes them extra nice,
But the EU says if thus fried,
They will contain acrylamide.
They say the temperature’s too high,
They should parboil before they fry,
And if they do their chips will be,
The safest they can ever be.
Smurflanders say, “This is all rot!
To parboil’s something we will not!
We know all this ’cos we are wise,
And don’t want any soggy fries.
The Belgian method is so good,
The chips turn out just like they should,
With centres soft and crisp outside,
They are the best you’ve ever tried.”
The EU then backs off a bit,
“We really do not want to sit,
In judgement on your Belgian fries,
Or what they ought to be in size.
But health and safety’s number one,
So when your chips are being done,
Do keep below one seven five,
So there’ll be no acrylamide.
And then you ought to be all right,
Can eat your chips both day and night,
But it’s still not quite ‘All right Jack’ –
You might still have a heart attack!”
Image – Jeremy Keith / Flickr
It is reported that the dress code at Royal Ascot has been relaxed so that gentlemen need not wear jackets in the current heatwave.
So Royal Ascot comes and goes,
And everybody going knows,
That etiquette requires that they,
Dress in top hats and suits of grey.
No other dress in entertained,
Though if it is or has just rained,
An umbrella which is plain,
May be held to divert the rain.
But this year of rain was there none,
In fact instead the sun just shone,
And with the hot wind and some more,
The mercury began to soar.
It rose to more than thirty-three,
At which point there was a decree,
That jackets could now be removed,
For in the past it has been proved,
That if ones temp should get too high,
It might affect the date you die.
So after this it’s my belief,
Most men would now sigh with relief,
And many would their jackets doff,
Before it is announced, ‘They’re off!’
But what of ladies? Wouldn’t they,
Like also to wear less today?
Well their dress code is not so clear,
But if some overheat they fear,
They can perhaps wear a bit less,
As long as they do not undress.
It is reported that Brexit negotiations have begun and that the leaders exchanged appropriate gifts.
So Brexit talks are underway,
Have lasted so far one whole day,
And both sides say they want to be,
Conducting them pragmatically.
So leaders firstly exchanged gifts,
To counter claims of any rifts,
Between the two sides as they met,
But hadn’t really spoken yet.
The Frenchman’s present was a book,
Which when inside he had a look,
Explained although in prose not rhyme,
How best one should a mountain climb.
This Frenchman who was of like mind,
Presented help of different kind –
A walking stick – and said he hoped,
That it would help the British cope,
And navigate along the path,
They had to in the aftermath,
Of last year’s referendum vote,
To disembark the EU boat.
Both gifts were meaningful perhaps,
Intended to prevent collapse,
Of these talks which as we all know,
Have still a full two years to go.
So watch this space, I will report,
And try to not get too distraught,
If on occasions the outcome,
Looks like it might be rather glum.
It is reported that hairdressers on Staffordshire are giving their customers free drinks contrary to licensing regulations.
You set foot in the barber’s shop,
To get thinned out a bit on top,
And then before you’ve time to blink,
The barber’s plying you with drink.
“Would Sir now like a spot of gin?
We find it brings the punters in.
Or maybe Scotch is more your taste,
Or Coke if it with rum is laced?”
But Staffs Police are not amused,
They fear the rules have been abused,
For giving alcohol away,
Even if there is nought to pay,
Is not allowed, no not at all,
If you’ve no licence on the wall.
But they say, “It’s just a mistake,
And so no action will we take,
As long as barbers do desist,
And customers don’t come out pi … drunk!”
It is reported that McDonald’s is planning to provide cutlery in its French restaurants.
McDonald’s is a household name,
And it has risen to great fame,
By selling hamburgers and chips,
And not expecting any tips.
No tips because in every land,
You eat your burger with your hand,
And it can make a dreadful mess,
As Miliband, Ed, would confess.
But in France as a general rule,
To eat with fingers is not cool,
And McD thinks it will lose trade,
Unless there is a fork and blade.
So now across the board in France,
McDonald’s will give you the chance,
To eat there with a fork and knife,
That’s you, the kids, so too the wife.
But if you want to do beware,
’Cos of what’s on the menu there,
It’s only top-price meals apply,
And for the irons qualify.
Then when it comes don’t get upset,
Because I haven’t told you yet,
That though the knives and forks are free,
It’s likely they will plastic be!
It is reported that Jeremy Corbyn is still refusing to say that he would launch a nuclear weapon.
JC has many times been asked,
If he could contemplate the task,
Of launching missiles just before,
We’re consumed by nuclear war.
He never really answered right,
And then again on Friday night,
To his discomfort and great pain,
A questioner asked him again.
A rambling ‘answer’ then ensued,
In which he said he’d not be rude,
And rather than a missile fire,
Whose consequences would be dire,
Instead he’d be prepared to talk,
Taking the role of dove, not hawk.
He says this is a better way,
Because the worst – how can I say –
While we’d be blown to smithereens,
There wouldn’t be such dreadful scenes,
In Moscow or indeed Pyongyang,
Where bombs might otherwise go ‘Bang!’
So now we know the man’s imbued,
With certain moral rectitude,
And so the answer’s ‘No’ not ‘Yes’,
Because he’ll not the button press.
And if he thinks this is all right,
Eventually he’ll get a fright,
For with friend Putin in the east,
A few of us might be deceased.