Trojan Horse

It is reported that the Chinese have been putting ‘spy chips’ into electronic products made in China and there are concerns that this may put Western infrastructure and other systems at risk.

Remember at the gates of Troy,
The Greeks had come up with a ploy,
To trick the Trojans, like you do,
With something too good to be true.

They left outside a wooden horse,
The Trojan’s wanted it, of course,
And so they took the horse with glee,
Delighted it was also free.

They took it through their city walls,
Ignoring wiser people’s calls,
Who said that it must be a trick,
For anyone who wasn’t thick,
Would know that horses don’t come free,
And this was nice as nice could be.

The rest of this you ought to know:
The soldiers left the horse and so,
Attacked the Trojans in the night,
Which some might say just served them right,
For their greed and ignoring whence
The horse came – that’s not common sense.

Roll on now for a second take:
We all forgot this great mistake,
Back long ago when Troy did rue,
The day then too good to be true.

This time the ‘Greeks’ are farther east,
They make things and they charge the least,
With prices that are very low,
So that’s where we all want to go.

Our eyes light up, they are so cheap,
But what we sow we’ll later reap,
When we find out, or maybe not,
That there’s a Chinese Trojan plot.

For recently it’s come to light,
That Chinese chip assemblers might,
Have hidden spy chips in their goods,
Behaving, then, a bit like hoods.

This is quite frightening in a way,
For if there were a war today,
The Chinese might, with flick of mouse,
Control what goes on in your house.

And not just that but other things,
Like grids which phones and power bring;
These could be shut down in a flash,
And all our self-drive cars might crash.

So with this problem, what to do?
It’s over to GCHQ,
For they and their friends MI6,
Will also have their bags of tricks,
So there can be robust defence,
In present, past or future tense.

But if they can’t, how to react,
If hacking does become a fact?

Well, if we don’t all want to die,
We have no choice but to rely,
Though I don’t want to worry you,
On English, J and Doctor Who!



It is reported that the BBC is being criticised for having an excessive number of female persons in its hit programme, Bodyguard.

As we know in this day and age,
Where PC is now all the rage,
Most everyone has to comply,
Or, at the very least, to try.

The BBC’s been trying hard,
For it is always on its guard,
And it’s cast women, ethnics too,
In roles including Doctor Who.

It thought that it had done quite well,
In Bodyguard as you can tell,
For all the senior people there,
Belonged to the sex that is fair.

But even now folk made complaint,
“Because,” they said, “This line-up ain’t,
As realistic as can be –
There are too many girls, you see.”

The BBC said “Damn and drat!
We hadn’t really thought of that.
But we tried hard, you must agree,
So everything would be PC.

It seems we don’t get any thanks,
Whatever we might do just tanks,
So next time do not wonder why,
If we decide just not to try!”

There is a moral to this tale:
Try pandering and you will fail;
Whate’er you do will be in vain,
’Cos someone always will complain!


Stiletto red-shoe-2792160_960_720

It is reported that a pair of dancers on Strictly Come Dancing were spotted snogging outside a London pub, Theresa May danced before a speech in Birmingham, Nicola Sturgeon couldn’t dance in her super high heels in Glasgow and Jean-Claude Juncker tried to copy Mrs May in Brussels.

To dance is good, most people say,
It keeps you fit from day to day,
It’s best to do it to a song,
But on occasions it goes wrong.

I don’t mean technical mistakes,
The sort that might require two takes,
Like when Ed Balls, who’s not a bore,
Almost dropped Ms Jones on the floor.

This Mrs Jones of whom I speak,
Is in the news again this week,
But not for dancing, I’m afraid,
Which is the reason she gets paid.

No, this time, as told in this blog,
She was partaking in a snog,
With her dance partner on TV –
You don’t get paid for that – it’s free.

But what now of our Mrs May?
You thought that she had feet of clay,
But then she danced before her talk –
She should have been advised to walk.

Her dancing, though, went down a treat,
Surprising, for with two left feet,
It wasn’t good, but p’rhaps it made,
The lady look a bit less staid.

And then a few days farther on,
We saw Miss SNP Sturgeon,
Before her conference’s talk,
In heels so high she couldn’t walk.

“I’m wearing these,” she said, “So that,
I look more tall than if they’re flat;
But really, it’s so there’s no chance,
That I could ever try to dance.”

And finally, the Juncker man,
Who tries in every way he can,
To cause embarrassment by day,
Especially to Mrs May.

He claims that was not what he did,
His footwork was indeed splendid,
Because he’d had a drop to drink,
And she had not, I like to think.

That takes us now full circle for,
The first and last were drinking more
Than might be wise, depending how,
They want to be perceived for now.

So if you dance do take great care,
For bits might end up on the air,
And if they do, you can be sure,
That pictures will be more, not fewer!



It is reported that the French Word Police (the Commission for the Enrichment of the French Language or CELF) are, as always, trying to come up with alternatives to English words that are popular in France; in particular they don’t like ‘fake news’.

The French are pompous, there’s no doubt,
They like to talk and strut about,
And nothing much gets up their nose,
Like people speaking English prose.

Their language, they say, is so good,
All men would speak it if they could,
And one thing that they cannot bear,
Is English words included there.

The latest they don’t like’s fake news,
Or information fallacieuse,
But this is so long-winded that,
Campaigns to use it will fall flat.

Courriel – that’s email to you,
Might have a better chance, it’s true,
But even though the word is short,
It’s harder to say than you thought.

And that’s just two, there’s many more,
Some that you won’t have heard before,
Like for a smartphone from today,
Please mobile multifonction say.

And finally, the worst of all,
(They’re banging heads now on brick wall)
To have within French etiquette:
L’acèss sans fil à l’internet. Accent grave ..ess. a

You likely know fil is a wire,
(That’s from French ‘O’level or higher)
And so this snappy turn of phrase,
Describes a current modern craze,
Which, if you’re wond’ring what or why,
Is French shorthand and means Wi-fi.

Image – Mike Licht,



It is reported that the Scottish Government has banned the common cartographers’ practice of depicting the Shetland Islands in a box close to the Scottish mainland in order to save space; from now on they must be shown in their correct geographical position – along with a very large expanse of sea.

The SNP has little shame,
So as it pursues its main aim,
It tries and tries and tries a lot,
To look important when it’s not.

So it promotes so many things,
Like bagpipes and those haggis things,
And how abstemious Scots folk are,
When drinking in a Glasgow bar.

But something new has now occurred,
Correcting someone who has erred,
And that is the forecasters who,
Advise when it will rain on you.

They normally show Shetland in,
A box which can be long and thin,
Somewhere east of the Moray Firth,
Which is the wrong place on the earth.

They do this so that you can see,
Not where the islands ought to be,
But what the weather will be like,
Before you set off on your hike.

So Government has now decreed,
The islands must be shown indeed,
Much farther north, up near the pole,
Thus showing Scotland as a whole.

This move will now mean they can claim,
That Scotland’s large as is their aim,
So it’s important and should be,
Both independent, also free.

But others say, “That is just tosh.
We did invent the Macintosh,
But want to know, och aye the noo,
If we need an umbrella too!”



It is reported that, as authorities in Paris attempt to exterminate the city’s four million rats (the rodents, that is), a campaign has been started by animal rights group Animaux Zoopolis to encourage commuters to love them instead.

We’ve talked about these rats before,
And how there are now many more,
To be seen in each street and square,
Of which most folk were unaware.

You’ll recall that the council did,
Want of these rodents to be rid,
And so it tried to seal their fate,
By poisoning the food they ate.

It hasn’t really worked too well,
They’re all still there as folk can tell,
And now a campaign has begun,
Which says that rats can be such fun.

The rats, they say, are much maligned,
And people really shouldn’t mind,
Sharing their spaces in the street,
With rodents who just want to eat.

“They are so cuddly,” they proclaim,
“And they have feelings just the same,
As they and all their family,
Stroll in the park to look for tea.

So members of the human race,
Embrace these rats and give them space,
For don’t you think it rather rude,
Attacking them with poisoned food?”



It is reported that Waitrose is starting in-house deliveries where they let themselves in and put your groceries in the kitchen, fridge or freezer.

It seems that in this day and age,
Although it can be hard to gauge,
Folk like to buy their food and wine,
Not in the shop but now online.

So far, so good, but when the man,
Stops outside in his little van,
He’ll likely not see you about,
Because quite often you’ll be out.

So with your shopping, what to do?
The options can be rather few,
And all that he can do that day
Is take the blooming lot away.

So Waitrose has devised a plan,
Which will allow their little man,
To go inside your locked front door,
And walking gently on the floor,
He’ll find your fridge and cupboard too,
And put it all away for you.

“That’s pretty good,” I hear you say,
“But if the fridge is full, he may,
Find there is insufficient room,
Because we have failed to consume,
The last lot that he brought before,
From some or other Waitrose store.”

“I see your problem but I think,
If he leaves some things in the sink,
They’ll be all right for, as a rule,
Most sinks are really pretty cool.

It does mean, though, the sink must be,
As empty and clean as can be,
For if it’s not and in a mess,
It might cause much undue distress.”

I’m rambling on here, not sure how,
To finish off this poem now,
But it might help if you would stop,
And buy all your stuff in the shop!