It is reported that Japanese car rental companies have been noticing that many of their customers drive almost no miles when they rent a car. It turns out that office workers are renting cars in which they can sit to eat their lunch away from the office … and their boss.

The Japanese are rather quaint,
Or that’s the picture people paint,
Because they sometimes do strange things,
Which then that reputation brings.

Now one such thing has come to light,
That’s causing some concern, but slight,
For companies that rent the car,
Are finding they’re not driven far,
Before they are returned to base –
That’s really odd in any case.

And sometimes when a rental’s bought,
The time that’s booked can be quite short,
Perhaps an hour or maybe half,
Is what they’re finding – that’s the staff.

Of course the Japs are so polite,
That to enquire does not seem right,
And so they have been in the dark.
About their cars which must be parked.

But now the secret’s coming out,
And it seems odd without a doubt,
As it transpires that people are,
Just spending lunchtimes in the car.

They want somewhere to get some peace,
A place where working time can cease,
For just a half hour in the day,
No matter what their boss might say.

Their lunch break will be over soon,
And then throughout the afternoon,
It’s back to work, boss doesn’t know,
Just where it is his people go.

He finds, though, they come back refreshed,
And equal then to any test,
And with an increase in work rate,
He hopes they’ll still stay working late.

Image – Sketyl none



It is reported that protests are continuing in Hong Kong about the proposed imposition of extradition arrangements with China.

Hong Kong is in revolt today,
They don’t want to be sent away,
To China when accused of crime,
Where they might have to do some time.

For Chinese courts are quite the pits ,
And often with no buts or ifs,
The judge says, “Guilty,” in a trice,
“So off to jail which isn’t nice.”

And if your ‘crime’ is of dissent,
You might find that the rules are bent,
And you end up in quarters damp –
A Chinese concentration camp.

For Mr Xi controls all this,
There’s very little he does miss,
For he’s a quite distinctive stare.
Resembling, so some say, Pooh Bear.

Referring to this, though, is bad,
So writing it I better had,
Hope that my case would not proceed,
Or that he cannot English read.



It is reported that Jeff Bezos, founder of Amazon, has settled his divorce from his wife of twenty-five years by paying her thirty-eight billion – yes, thirty-eight, yes, billion – dollars.

Jeff Bezos is a wealthy man,
He saves his money when he can,
And ’cos of this he is, some say,
The richest in the world today.

So when he settled for divorce,
His wife knew he was rich, of course,
And so her lawyers thought they’d try,
For lots of cash – and aim sky-high.

So this they did, got thirty-eight,
That’s billions of dollars straight,
And this was high you must agree,
But still not missed at all by he.

For if your wealth is so extreme
And more than anyone can dream,
It matters not what people say,
Or how much you might give away.

Image – DonkeyHotey



It is reported that Angela Merkel suffered another shaking fit as she stood at a swearing in ceremony, her second public shaking in a little over a week.

Frau Merkel, German Chancellor,
To some might seem a dreadful bore,
And one would not imagine she,
Would ever too excited be.

But in the days most recently,
On two occasions, maybe three,
She has been seen to shake a bit –
Was it excitement or a fit?

When asked, she said her health was good,
She took no more pills than she should,
And this slight shaking that we saw,
Was not something we should deplore.

“In fact,” said she, “I’m really fine.
I consume daily ale and wine,
And if my head is feeling sore,
Then I might drink a little more.”

So now you know, I think that we,
More clearly the problem see:
Her body wouldn’t shake like this,
If she weren’t always on the p*ss!


Keep calm and carry on

It is reported that President Macron has tried (unsuccessfully) to silence the gilets jaunes protesters with a handful of big giveaways which, being France, could start a revolution.

With Brexit now it’s my belief,
You’d like a bit of light relief,
So hop across the Channel where,
The Macron Wunderkind is there.

I’m sorry, though, and must report,
The news from there is of the sort,
That might still tend to make you yawn,
Concerning Macron’s Gallic dawn.

He promised to reform the state,
To lower the taxation rate,
Because it takes a half, you see,
Of France’s yearly GDP.

He did some bits and bobs at first,
But then began to fear the worst,
As rioting within the towns,
Threatened to bring him crashing down.

He opened up the coffers then,
And so he might the riots stem,
He gave out cash, reduced the tax,
So fiscal discipline was lax.

But rioting still did not stop,
For since he’d given such a lot,
Presumably, the people thought,
They’d carry on and see what sort,
Of other goodies they might get,
So not to stop the fighting yet.

Protesters, therefore, all still fight,
Against Macron with all their might,
And he could have across the land,
A revolution on his hands.

For when the going gets too tough,
And people have just had enough,
The French rebel, Germans invade,
But as for Britons, I’m afraid,
With common sense sine qua non,
We just keep calm and carry on.



It is reported that a baby has been born in Bethlehem and attended by three kings.

I’m writing all these words by hand,
While sitting in the Holy Land,
About two thousand years ago,
But no-one knows exactly so,
Although the date is pretty rough,
I think it’s likely close enough.

I’m glad the date is out the way,
For back then on that Christmas Day,
A man and woman, so it’s said,
Were seeking, for the night, a bed.

They told the landlord they’d come far,
But when they asked him at the bar,
He said his rooms were rather full,
But round the back he had a bull,
That might perhaps his stable share,
If they would like to check round there.

The woman now looked none too sure,
About this offer from the brewer,
But if the beast were just a cow,
Well, maybe that would do for now.

The landlord said he’d go and check,
When he came back he said, “Oh heck!”
The bull, he said, had disappeared,
But as he had the stable neared,
He saw that there was not much space,
For others had now filled the place.

There was a cow, a donkey too,
Some flocks of sheep – just one or two,
And though the night was pretty dark,
Is seemed as full as Noah’s ark.

“We’ll take it,” said her husband Joe.
“The forecast is for sleet and snow.
The sheep seem quiet, do not bleat,
But have you anything to eat?”

The landlord said, “I’m not too sure,
But I’ve some bottles from the brewer;
The beer inside is dark not pale,
For it’s our special Christmas ale.”

The woman said, “That will do well,
My baby’s coming I can tell,
And after I have given birth,
Expect some changes on this earth.

But as for now the ale is fine,
Because you will find out with wine,
That although it’s as yet unknown,
From water he can make his own.”

So there they stayed that Christmas night,
They found the stable quite all right,
But next day the innkeeper said,
“I’m almost going off my head.

I didn’t sleep a wink all night,
That star up there was far too bright,
But what was right beyond the pale,
Was that some bloke the worse for ale,
At three o’clock gets up and sings,
A song that starts, ‘We are three kings’.

I really don’t know what to do,
They’re much more trouble, them, than you;
I’ve put them in my three best rooms,
But misery for me now looms,
With prospects that are pretty bleak,
’Cos they’ve booked in to stay next week.

They’ve all brought gifts, they say they are,
For me to keep behind the bar,
Until a fourth king should appear,
In Bethlehem or somewhere near,
And then the gifts they will bestow,
On this king that they barely know.

But I think we might play a trick,
Because these kings are pretty thick.
So I’ve a Christmas cracker here,
Just very slightly stained with beer,
It’s painted blue and red and brown,
And inside is a paper crown.

If your child will just put it on,
The kings will think he is the one,
To have the gifts as was foretold,
And one of them is solid gold.

So after that just pay your bill,
I’ll put it over by the till;
It might be big but do not bitch,
Because by then we’ll all be rich!

And as for my three guests from hell? –
We’ll all be shot of them as well!”


Macron 406px-Caricature_Emmanuel_Macron

It is reported that President Macron’s televised address in connection with the gilets jaunes riots in which he tried to claim not to be the president of the rich was staged in the Ēlysée Palace’s ‘room of gold’ with gilt everywhere and a solid gold cockerel on the desk.

Now Macron is in quite a state,
Or thinks he is at any rate,
Because, despite his latest pitch,
He’s president of just the rich.

At least that is what people think,
And since this could create a stink,
He thought he should go on TV,
So that the people could all see,
That he’s the humblest person for,
He really thinks about the poor.

But then he chose a palace room,
With more gold than a pharaoh’s tomb,
And he, presumably, had missed,
His audience might get the gist,
Of thinking all this gold (that’s or),
Could mean he does neglect the poor.

He said he’d been misunderstood,
And so he’d like like it if they would,
To now believe what he will say,
Although it might not look that way.

He said the gilding matters not,
And though there might be quite a lot,
And rather more than he’s got here,
Right now he would just like a beer!

So politicians on TV,
Be careful what the cameras see,
If it’s too posh I have to say,
You ought to hide it all away.

Image – Stéphane Lemarchand, caricaturiste / Wikimedia commons