Brexit jigsaw 1

It is reported that Boris Johnson has stopped using the word ‘Brexit’ now that it has happened and we have left the European Union; it is a thing of the past.

The Government, it’s said, decreed,
That this word we no longer need,
For it refers to one event,
Which recently we underwent.

And that’s now firmly in the past,
So though some people were aghast,
It happened and can’t be undone,
To suit the ones who haven’t won.

But now we must attention turn,
To other matters of concern,
Like how we now cooperate,
With this new euro superstate.

For it’s still there, I have to say,
Still trying every which and way,
Despite the outcome of our poll,
That it can still exert control.

So for a year our work’s cut out,
And we must stay polite throughout,
Because this will, at any rate,
The others discombobulate.



It is reported that Carlos Ghosn, the former head of Nissan and Renault accused of fraud, has escaped from house arrest in Tokyo by hiding in a musical instrument case.

A spark of genius, I’d say,
When Ghosn asked a band to play,
A Christmas concert in his flat,
For him, a few friends and the cat.

The band came round with cases large,
They knew for sure who was in charge,
And once the music had been played,
Then Mr Ghosn with their aid,
Climbed right inside the largest case,
Which did have just sufficient space,
To seat him in there but, alas,
Not quite what you’d call business class.

The flat door, luckily, was wide,
So they took all their bags outside,
And hastened off, no more to play,
For now ’twas downhill all the way.

They went on to the airport where,
A private jet was waiting there,
With spaces, for it wasn’t full,
Then it took off for Istanbul.

And that was it, the man was free,
And I think I can guarantee,
It will, to Japanese dismay,
Be made into a film one day.

As for the guards at Ghosn’s flat,
They found inside there just the cat,
But with the cat a double bass,
Which didn’t seem to have a case!



It is reported that Chinese police have arrested over one hundred people involved in producing and selling fake Loctite glue.

If you want glue to do it right*,
One brand you might try’s called Loctite;
It’s sticky; it sticks like … well … glue,
And there’s no end that it can do.

But Chinese copies have been seen,
Have caused police to intervene,
And those who had the glue possessed,
Were all then subject to arrest.
The glue was seized, they checked it out,
That it was fake was not in doubt;
The glue was really just too thin,
And would not do as said on tin**.

And so these men who have been caught,
Will likely find themselves in court,
Where they’ll be dealt with pretty quick,
If they can make the charges stick!

* With apologies to the makers of Polycell
** And to the makers of Ronseal



It is reported that a farmer in Shropshire is rounding up his sheep by tricking them into following a drone which they have learnt to associate with food.

A Shropshire farmer’s trained his sheep,
By giving them some nuts to eat,
So when he flies by them a drone,
They’ve learnt to follow it back home.

This makes it easy, I suppose,
But still is pretty tough on those,
That make a living from these sheep,
By herding them if not asleep.

I mean the sheepdogs on the farm,
To whom this might cause mental harm,
Because with nothing else to do,
And no sheep that they need pursue,
They might be made redundant and,
Find their skills no more in demand.

But since they will come on the cheap,
They should find their friend Shaun the Sheep,
Will hatch a plan these drones to stop,
So they might still come out on top!


Whisky still

It is reported that an increasing number of English whisky distilleries are opening and visits are proving popular with tourists, being closer and more convenient to visit than Scottish ones.

The Scots (whom we can all call Jocks),
Must quickly now pull up their socks,
Because, I am afraid to say,
Their famous drink might slip away.

Scotch whisky has for years been made,
In Scotland then by way of trade,
Supplied, including excise tax,
To be drunk by the Sassenachs.

They like the stuff, they drink a lot,
But now, it seems, have hatched a plot,
To make it down there in the south,
And sell it there by word of mouth.

And as the factories mash the grain,
A number of them in the main,
Arrange for tours to see it made,
Provided that they have all paid.

So for the Jocks this is a threat,
And one they haven’t sorted yet,
For if these factories do succeed,
It might the sale of scotch impede.

That would be bad – for them I mean –
As bad as any they have seen,
But they can sort it without doubt,
If they just pull their finger out!



It is reported that bulb sellers in Amsterdam’s famous floating market are selling old bulbs of which it has been shown only one percent will grow and flower.

Now Amsterdam is so well-known,
As where the tulips are all grown,
And if you’ve to the city flown,
You can buy bulbs to grow your own.

And where better to buy the same,
Than in the floating place of fame,
That is the floating market where,
They do have lots of bulbs in there.

They’re piled up high but are not cheap –
In fact the prices can be steep –
But tourists flock to buy then up,
Not knowing they’ll be sold a pup.

For recently it has been found,
That when they’re planted in the ground,
Most do not grow and those that do,
Will very rarely have the hue,
Shown on the packets they were in,
And are fit only for the bin.

The city mayor now comes on scene,
Determined he should intervene,
To stop the sale of items fake,
For reputations are at stake.

And if he fails and this goes on,
Folk will soon learn about this con,
Which will be exposed as a sham –
No tulips then from Amsterdam!



It is reported that James Dyson has abandoned his quest to develop electric vehicles. Not much demand for electric road sweepers perhaps?

He has been dubbed The Cyclone King,
And his life’s work has been to bring,
The best of hoovers to your home,
But you must push – it’s not a drone.

And then he said some time ago,
He planned to make his business grow,
By making vehicles for the street,
No matter tarmac or concrete.

But now a few months further on,
His plans for this are almost done,
Because he’s found it looks as though,
The uptake may be rather slow,
And though he’d set his face like flint,
He’d very likely end up skint.

But maybe there’s another cause,
Encouraging Sir James to pause,
And that is it occurs to me,
In towns as far as I can see,
These electric road sweepers are,
Between you and me few and far!