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It is reported that French fishermen have been attacking English fishing boats in scallop fishing grounds off the coast of Normandy in which the British but not the French are permitted to fish … Yes, really.

The French have always been a pain,
Historically and now again,
Because they take exception to,
The rules that they should obey too.

The farmers often start the fight,
On anything they think’s not right,
Or anything they just don’t like,
And sometimes they can go on strike.

They get their tractors from their byres,
Block all the roads with burning tyres,
And generally are such a pain,
Until they all go home again.

But this time on it’s scallops, right?
That make the fishing Frenchmen fight,
And they attacked the English fleet,
Collecting scallops for to eat.

For reasons that are none too clear,
The English boats can fish round here,
Whereas French skipper, crew and mate,
Must wait until some later date.

And there, it seems, the problem lies:
French fishermen one may surmise,
Unhappy that they cannot fish,
Just anywhere that they might wish,
Think that it really is all right,
To start a fish-related fight.

But if they start this derring-do,
They’ll bite off more than they can chew,
Because the Royal Navy may,
Step in and take part in the fray.

The French have got a fleet as well,
It’s waterproof as one can tell,
But really, if one fun can poke,
Compared to ours it’s just a joke.

But back to fish, the French must know,
They really have the line to toe,
And so they’ll have to sit and watch,
The English boats their scallops catch.


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It is reported that the Belgians are running out of potatoes to make the national dish ‘frites’ owing to poor yields in the hot, dry weather. They should go on holiday to Glasgow! And Ryanair pilots have gone on strike. And, of course, Brexit rumbles on.

The Belgians say they like their frites,
Among their favourite things to eat,
And pretty cheap because they’re made,
With spuds though they must make the grade.

And that’s a problem, which is bad,
Because the weather that we’ve had,
With little rain and days so hot,
Means that of spuds there’s not a lot.

And what there are are very small,
With some that can’t be peeled at all,
So frites are now in short supply,
Because the weather’s been so dry.

But, nonetheless, help is at hand,
’Cos way up north – that’s in Scotland,
Glaswegian people are alreet,
With far more chips than they should eat.

(If right now you don’t get the gist,
It could be that you’re simply p*issed;
Or maybe you do not recall,
My last blog which will explain all.)

So charter flights are what we need,
Then Glasgow folk can take the lead,
In cutting down on what they eat,
Which will, for them, be quite a feat.

But all of this might have to wait,
Because on round about this date,
The pilots’ strike at Ryanair,
Means there are few planes in the air.

But that’s all right, or it could be,
Provided that we soon can see,
A proper Brexit which is fair,
Then we will send potatoes there.

But I’m afraid if Brexit’s bad,
And we are all still pretty mad,
Potatoes then we will not ship,
And Brussels will have had its chips.



It is reported that Donald Trump has been giving conflicting messages about what he thinks of Theresa May and Brexit.

Our Donald, who’s not far from here,
Is not always completely clear,
What he means when he tweets or speaks,
Including when he gives critiques.

He doesn’t approve of the way,
That our PM, that’s Mrs May,
Is handling Brexit (go or stay),
Or at least didn’t yesterday.

He said she’s got the whole thing wrong,
But then before so very long,
(By which I really mean quite soon),
It seems he had a change of tune.

Right now, he says , she’s doing good,
Since he’s advised her so she should,
And, as he said before Blenheim,
Most anything’s OK with him.

That is not all, I could say more,
Of things like this – at least a score,
For every day he seems to say,
Something he later blows away.

The consequence of this is that,
One really knows not where he’s at,
And so one doesn’t get too bored,
His comments might be best ignored.

So there I’ll end, good as my word,
I will write no more words absurd;
There’s no doubt that he’ll speak again,
This most peculiar of men.


Juncker cartoon

It is reported that the President of the European Commission was unsteady on his feet as he arrived at an official NATO function yesterday and had to be supported by the French President and other heads of state to prevent him falling over, which would have been almost as embarrassing as pictures of him struggling to stand up. A spokesman said his unsteadiness was due to sciatica, (not drink) … hic.

One Luxembourger likes his wine,
The types he drinks are very fine,
So not for him the Spanish plonk –
That’s far too prone to make one honk.

But though it might not make one ill,
Too many glasses likely will,
Make one unsteady on one’s feet,
When walking down the road or street.

So people then began to talk,
About Herr Juncker’s wobbly walk,
Because, it seemed, it could be due,
To glasses drunk – more than a few.

“Why, no,” his spokesman said quite quick,
“If you think that you’re pretty thick.
Sciatica is what he’s got,
In fact he suffers quite a lot.

His problem is sciatic pain,
Which he’s got used to in the main,
And so, though hard to reconcile,
He often manages a smile.

So talk of drink is premature,
He only drinks one glass or fewer,
So if you see him with some drink,
Well, that’s Ribena, I should think.”

Image – DonkeyHotey / Flickr



It is reported that fishmongers in Marseille have been fined for failing to display the Latin or full scientific names of fish at point of sale as required by EU regulation No 1379/2013.

The EU overflows with rules,
Some seem to be made up by fools,
And when it comes to food and wine,
The French will take charge every time.

It’s likely that they’ve had a say,
In each rule that comes into play,
Including one concerning fish –
A very appetising dish.

The regulation says you must,
If selling fish to earn a crust,
Display the fish with Latin name,
And where it’s from and whence it came.

The reason for this isn’t clear,
And so I can’t give you a steer,
But likely it’s a pointless rule,
Designed by people who play boules,

But anyway, I have digressed;
Because the French should know the best,
You might expect them to adhere,
To their own rules, however queer.

But I have learnt that they do not;
It mostly matters not a lot,
But in Marseilles the other day,
The fishmongers were made to pay.

The fines were hundreds – pounds, I think,
And there they caused a dreadful stink,
Because the French, who like their way,
Declared then that they wouldn’t pay.

And there we are, so what is new?
The Germans act in this way too;
Whatever rules they like to make,
Eventually they seem to break!


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It is reported that Donald Tusk, President of the European Council, possibly in connection with Donald Trump’s call for Russia to be readmitted to the G7 group of industrialised nations, has said that Donald Trump is ‘playing into the hands’ of those who want to undermine democracy.

Now Donald Tusk’s a kindly sort,
But when his namesake said they ought,
To admit Russia once again,
He said that he should use his brain,
And make Putin now bide his time,
Because he tries to undermine,
Democracy here in the West,
And can, therefore, be quite a pest.

All the above is likely true,
But one thing should be plain to you,
Which is that he and the EU,
Are undermining it all too.

For in Brexit the EU still,
Determined to defeat the will,
Of British people to secede,
Refuses to their voices heed.

It’s done this several times before,
Insisting voters vote some more,
Until people – that’s me and you –
Vote as we’re told by the EU.

It’s not just Brexit, though, because,
When Italy in turmoil was,
The EU told them that they can,
Not have a eurosceptic man,
Or woman as their next PM,
So they would have to choose again.

And then, of course, remember Greece?
The EU was intent to fleece,
The country for all that it had,
Which really was so very bad,
When Greeks had voted to be free,
In the home of democracy.

While former votes, French, Irish, Dutch,
Did not, in fact, amount to much,
As all were told to go away,
And vote again another day.

But the EU should just beware:
It hasn’t been elected there,
And dictatorial regimes,
Oppressing people, so it seems,
And stopping those that want to leave,
Should know such people are aggrieved.

And history tells regimes like this,
All, in due time, find they’re dismissed,
Except ones which their people shoot,
To make sure more don’t follow suit.

I’m not suggesting that they would,
Shoot citizens and spill their blood,
So history teaches that, perhaps,
The EU will, one day, collapse.

On that day many will rejoice,
Regain their democratic voice,
But what the future might then be,
We will just have to wait and see



It is reported that the European Commission’s budget now exceeds one trillion pounds per year to the dismay of some of those having to pay for it.

The EU, it seems, knows no bounds,
When it prepares the budget rounds,
For it has just produced a sum,
That’s will make lots of people glum.

The budget that they want to spend,
Which member states must give, not lend,
Is over one trillion pounds,
A quantity that’s without bounds.

The Austrians, who this have seen,
It’s fair to say are non too keen,
And I’m completely free to tell,
So are the Danes and Dutch as well.

Their governments are up in arms,
And at this prospect are alarmed,
So to the EU they complain,
But the reply is just disdain.

The EU says they do not know,
Why this cash must be spent and so,
There is no way that they can say,
So they should just shut up and pay.

That will not go down very well,
In some countries quite hard to sell,
But for those still in the EU,
There’s not a lot that they can do.