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.