It is reported that I am finding writing a blog every day quite stressful and so from toda I plan to reduce the number to just one or two each week.

This writing blogs, one new each day,
And which are free, you never pay,
Is getting stressful every time –
I have to make them scan and rhyme.

So I plan to slow down a bit,
But hope they will still be a hit,
Though down in numbers from the peak,
To likely one or two each week.

I might do more, I cannot say,
Depends what’s in the news each day,
But do keep reading what I write –
They might not all be total sh*te!


road bridge

It is reported that a mystery greengrocer armed with vegetables is lurking on a bridge near Torquay and throwing his produce at vehicles passing underneath.

Back in the days when there were stocks,
And people died from catching pox,
The common people used to throw,
Their veggies like a UFO.

There were no limits, veg could be,
As small as something like a pea,
Quite middling like a Brussels sprout,
Or anything whose size is ‘out’.

But we’re more civilised today,
Projectiles have been put away;
Or so we thought until last week,
When with a small change in technique,
The veg that should be in the fridge,
Is being thrown down from a bridge.

If they hit windscreens, these might break,
And though the driver will awake,
As veggies through the windscreen bash,
Distracted thus he might just crash,

But he might well collect them too,
And take them home to make a stew,
Though there must be a better way,
To get most of your five-a-day!



It is reported that an Edward VIII gold sovereign has been sold for a million pounds.

I think that I can briefly tell,
That as the auction hammer fell,
Two people were delighted that,
They had between them now, in fact,
Broken the record for a coin,
By efforts which they did conjoin.

The coin in question was of gold,
And though not really all that old,
So very few were ever made,
And never, ever used for trade,

The story really is well-known,
With abdication of the throne,
And maybe in a different way,
It all repeats itself today.

How it will end we don’t yet know,
It could be good or bad and so,
If we all read these blogs of mine,
We should find out all in good time.



It is reported that a woman in Hammersmith, who discovered that her cat had been ‘adopted’ and was being cared for by a neighbour down the street, has taken her neighbour to court to repossess her pet. The neighbour had argued that the cat, Ozzie, should be able to make up his own mind as to where he wanted to live and he was free to come and go as he pleased. After spending £20,000 on legal fees the neighbour gave in and agreed not to continue looking after the cat.

Cats can be independent so,
They choose themselves just where they go,
And if they find food that’s improved,
One might find that the cat’s removed.

That came to pass in London where,
A cat began his time to share,
And went to stay by means of feet,
With other people down the street.

His owners really weren’t best pleased,
Thought that the cat had been deceived,
And so they then their neighbour fought,
In one or other type of court.

The neighbour, foolish more than wise,
Ran up a bill of such a size,
That meant she really couldn’t win,
So in the end she just gave in.

The cat, whom nobody had asked,
Had nonetheless the judgement grasped,
And so it seems it did comply,
(The opposite would mean defy).

So if your cat’s allowed to roam,
And it then finds itself a home,
Just go with it and be a sport,
Instead of going off to court.



It is reported that a lorry full of Pringles caught fire on the M1 in Derbyshire.

Quite recently there was a sight:
A Pringle lorry caught alight,
In Derbyshire on the M1,
And in an instant they were gone.

The driver tried but could not stop
Them burning as the tubes went ‘pop’,
And many of them blew away,
Onto the other carriageway.

That they burnt well is no surprise,
To anybody slightly wise,
For they’re potatoes fried in oil –
A safer way would be to boil!



It is reported that the New Year fireworks in London were a poor show as the wind was too low to disperse the smoke.

A lot of people like to go,
And watch the pyrotechnic show,
In London where on New Year’s Eve,
The crowds there make the city heave.

In former years the show was great,
And well worth several hours wait,
But the wind this year was too calm,
And robbed the display of its charm.

The smoke produced would not disperse,
And then to make the matters worse,
It drifted over to the crowd,
To whom the Mayor before had vowed,
That they would see the best display,
They’d ever seen before that day.

He’d said it all with good intent,
But then the London weather went,
And mostly messed the whole thing up,
So folk thought they’d been sold a pup.

It wasn’t practical to say,
As they had done back on D-Day,
That though for weather they might pray,
There would now be a short delay.

Back then the Germans had to wait,
To be surprised a later date,
But London crowds were not so kind,
When they were asked, “Would they not mind …”

So maybe this year was a flop,
Some other city out on top,
But London will not be outdone,
Come twenty, maybe twenty-one.



It is reported that a vicar in East Yorkshire returned home to find an extra body buried in his already full churchyard.

The vicar’s words were very clear:
“There is no more space left in here,
So you cannot bring any corpse,
To bury in this part of Yorks.

I must repeat, there’s no more room,
So anyone who’s met his doom,
And recently been undertook,
Will simply have to sling his hook.”

The vicar then went on his way,
Returning on another day,
But as the graveyard he surveyed,
He saw a new grave had been made.

He looked again, he was quite cross,
Because in here he was the boss,
But in the end he didn’t know,
If he could let the matter go.

He went to see the bishop then,
Who thought a bit and said, “Amen.
This time we might turn a blind eye,
Because our God who sits on high,
Already might have counted him,
And His view might be rather dim,
If He must now give up one dead –
He might want someone else instead!”

And so our friend was left to rest,
Because the bishop acquiesced;
The clergy, it seems, got it right,
So everyone can sleep at night!