It is reported that a gold nugget has been found in a Scottish river and that it may be worth £50,000 which would be more than ten times its normal value as a 2.75 Troy ounce piece of gold.

When we were young we were all told,
If you wanted a croc of gold,
The best place by a league or mile,
Was somewhere in the Emerald Isle.

There was a clue of where to try:
You simply looked up in the sky,
And where the rainbow met the ground,
Was where the gold was to be found.

Imagine, then, the great surprise,
When focussed by a pair of eyes,
A lump of gold, a real treat,
Which these criteria don’t meet.

So, first of all, the place don’t match,
We are in Scotland, there’s the catch,
And rainbows neither can be seen,
Plus grass all the wrong shade of green.

But, nonetheless, the gold was found,
Not, as expected, underground,
But in a shallow river where,
It just looked like a pebble there.

It was kept secret for a while,
For fear the river – not the Nile –
Be attacked by – and there are lots –
Some kilted, money-grabbing Scots.

I should, perhaps, apologise,
For my words here were not so wise,
And Scots like that, I’m pretty sure,
Are not a lot but rather fewer.

So there, I’ve tried to make amends,
So Scots can still with me be friends;
They are the greatest race all right,
But, by God, they can be so tight!



It is reported that Morrisons is selling wonky flowers which are imperfect owing to how they grow in the hot, dry weather.

We know of wonky fruit and veg,
Which, though they haven’t got an edge
On perfect ones, they taste as good,
And kcost much less than perfect would.

And now with flowers it’s the same,
Just like the perfect ones in name,
And though their stems might have a hunch,
They still look quite good in a bunch.

Some others might have stems that twist,
Resulting in a leftwards list,
And yet some more lean to the right,
Or have stems of too short a height.

But if you’re expert with the blooms,
You can arrange them for your rooms,
In vases made of glass or pot,
And straight or wonky matters not.



It is reported that there has been a spate of thefts of strawberries and raspberries from allotments in Midsomer Norton and the villagers – and Inspector Barnaby – are wondering what to do about it.

No doubt you have heard of this place,
The crime rate there is a disgrace,
With murders happening every day,
And three or four at once some say.

And now the lawlessness is worse,
Though not requiring any hearse,
For rustling there behind the leaves,
There is a gang of soft fruit thieves.

They turn up in the dead of night,
Seems they know what to do all right,
The raps and strawbs are quickly picked,
And by the morning have been nicked.

So now the police come for a look,
Though they can’t see what these thieves took,
But they survey the scene of crime,
And then they start to speak in rhyme.

“It’s clear that there has been a theft,
For of your fruit you are bereft,
And we’d like to investigate,
Or possibly could lie in wait.

The problem is, though, we have few,
Detectives, now no more than two,
And with four murders without doubt,
The two have got their work cut out.

So pinching fruit is not the tops,
Of scheduled workload for our cops,
And so we recommend you go,
And buy some more down at Tesco.”

This was not what folk liked to hear,
The police, they thought, were not sincere,
But they remembered years ago,
An old Wallace and Gromit show.

In this film our two heroes grew,
A huge great marrow, one, not two,
And after several thefts elsewhere,
They knew they would have to beware.

So they locked up their garden shed
Put cameras there then went to bed,
So if the burglars should appear,
They’d catch them before they got near,
Their vegetable, fat, not thin,
And they would have a chance to win.

And so our friends thought, “Yes indeed,
We ought to follow Gromit’s lead.
We’ll put up cameras and a light,
Then we will know who comes at night.

And when we catch them stealing food,
We will, at least, be very rude,
But at the worst the police might find,
They have more of that other kind,
Of crime to solve so Barnaby,
Should increase numbers up the three!”


Unicycle clown-991364_960_720

It is reported that Ed Pratt from Somerset has just completed a three year journey around the world on his unicycle, unsupported and carrying all his gear (tent, stove, sleeping bag etc) in panniers, and raising £300,000 for charity. Well done him.

To unicycle down the street,
Is really something of a feat,
And most of us would struggle to,
In inches do more than a few.

But for one Mr Pratt, not so,
For he decided he would go,
And unicycle round the earth,
Which has a quite humongous girth.

So off he went, he was nineteen,
And he was pretty much unseen,
By anyone including you,
Till he returned aged twenty-two.

He carried his stuff on his bike,
The ultimate in travelling light;
He packed it well, we must surmise,
So that alone deserves a prize.

So he achieved what very few,
Have any chance at all to do,
And maybe he’ll now settle down,
Performing as a circus clown!

But back to racing, I digress,
As cycling he tries to finesse,
So why ride on a single wheel,
When two would improve things, I feel?

Well, when you ride a bike for fun,
The tyres eventually get done,
But if you have one less than two,
Then you might only need a few.



It is reported that the Labour minister in Gordon Brown’s government who started the smart meter project has removed his because he rarely looked at it.

Smart meters have a dreadful press,
They don’t work, even more or less,
For if you your supplier switch,
They suffer from some sort of glitch.

The glitch in question? They go dumb.
That’s all of them, not only some,
And then the readings they should send,
At this point all come to an end.

So then you have to grope around,
Until the meter can be found,
And then armed with a torch and pen,
You read the thing your self again.

As well as this, they are behind
Installing them which is a bind,
And as you also might have guessed,
Their costs are now way in excess.

So in this mess, what best to do?
They have designed one that is new,
Which will resolve this fault, they say,
When they’re replaced again one day.

But new ones are not ready yet,
So you might think it a good bet,
That they would pause their fittings so,
And stop digging themselves a hole.

But no, the plan’s full steam ahead,
Although the project’s in the red,
And even though those done in haste,
Will one day have to be replaced.

If this sounds stupid then it is,
Just so that targets they won’t miss;
Or, as I have just said before,
Missed slightly less instead of more.

So if you’ve one of these take care,
It doesn’t drive you to despair;
It’s better to be smart than dumb,
So don’t to these meters succumb.


Moon full-moon-1775765_960_720

It is reported that the transport company TNT has lost a giant twenty-three foot model of the moon that it was shipping from Bristol to Austria. The sender said it was really annoying and he hadn’t got a spare. TNT said it was looking into it.

“I see the moon, the moon sees me,”
But not right now at TNT,
For TNT seems to have lost,
The moon and there will be a cost.

They picked it up in Bristol where,
It sat alone, there was no spare,
And it was destined to go far –
As far, in fact, as Austria.

But then somewhere along the route,
Someone who was not too astute,
Made some mistake, we don’t know what,
And lost the moon that they had got.

The moon, therefore, had disappeared,
And so then everybody feared,
Including people who were wise,
That, despite its enormous size,
(’Bout twenty-three feet in the main)
It might be never seen again.

So where’s it gone? There is no clue,
So no-one quite knows what to do;
But now some bright spark has just said,
The proper one could go instead.

It doesn’t need to be wrapped up,
No packaging to stick and stuff,
And there’s no need to charge a fare,
Because this one’s already there!

So everybody’s happy then,
But all need to remember when,
Observing it with beady eye,
They need to look up in the sky!


Victoria Beckham

It is reported that Victoria Beckham is to sell copies of the dress she wore to the wedding of the Duke and Duchess of Sussex; it is guaranteed not to make you smile.

“When I went to the wedding which,
Was held so Meg and Hal could hitch,
I went there in a brand new dress,
Worth fourteen hundred quid, no less.

The dress was made, it fitted fine,
It wasn’t yet part of my line,
But it was dark, some people said,
“Looks like a funeral dress instead.”

But, luckily, I didn’t smile,
As they went up and down the aisle,
And that was pretty simple too,
’Cos smiles are things I never do.

Ignoring, then, what people said,
About the service for the dead,
I think people might like to buy,
That dress, as I said, worn by I.

So in the catalogue it goes,
Keeps the machinists on their toes,
And what folk pay will be well-spent,
With mark-up ninety-five per cent.

We’ll make them for both fat and thin,
To keep the money rolling in,
But still it might take me a while,
Before I manage any smile!”

Image – jingdianmeinv3/Flickr