Sledging hill

It is reported that £90,000 in European Union ‘cohesion’ funds has been spent on building a sledging hill in Hungary in the hamlet of Jakabszállás where it hardly ever snows.

If you would like to … yes you will!
Build some sort of a sledging hill,
Then my advice to you today,
Is get the kind EU to pay.

They have the cash, that’s not in doubt,
And they so like to dole it out;
They like to give it out so fast,
And do it with few questions asked.

There might be some, like, “What’s your name?”
Or, “Who will be the best to blame,
If it goes wrong and people say,
It shouldn’t have been done that way?”

But that aside, the money’s there,
So you might as well have your share;
It will look good, at least a bit,
Even if no-one uses it.

The Magyars did as they were told,
They built the hill for young and old,
But when all done they had to say,
There wouldn’t be much snow that day.

And not the next nor after that,
But if you thought you’d smelled a rat,
Don’t worry there might be a loss –
The EU couldn’t give a toss.

The project’s finished, money spent,
They can account for where it went,
So now they’ve gone, gone off in haste.
To see what more cash they can waste!



It is reported that a primary school in Brighton has instituted a ‘gentle hands’ playground policy which prevents pupils playing tig (or tag); they are encouraged to hold hands and clap instead.

At school we used to run around,
And now and then I will be bound,
We had a fall, perhaps a graze,
For tig was then the latest craze.

The most at risk were hands and knees,
Because they scrape the ground with ease,
But wounds like this would never last,
Because there was Elastoplast.

But now though plasters still exist,
For hands and knees and even wrist,
The ones in charge have now decreed,
That children must not move at speed.

Instead they really should stand still,
Hold hands with others if they will,
But either way, though this is crap,
They will all be allowed to clap.

The kids won’t like it, that is plain,
And though they’re likely to complain,
It matters not they disagree,
For all of this is now PC!



It is reported that if you are an only child you are likely to be more obese than if you had siblings since larger families generally make healthier eating choices.

Nobody wants to be too fat,
For if you fall you might go splat!
But in a recent study it,
Finds you’ll tend to be fat not fit,
If you are just an only child,
Because your plate will be so piled,
With junk food for your mother will,
Cook less that’s healthy on the grill.

I read this but am not convinced,
That it’s all down to fatty mince,
So I have other to propose:
It’s in the next bit – verse, not prose.

The answer’s simple, seems to me,
That when the kids sit down for tea,
If there are several I’ll be bound,
There must be less food to go round.

Less food for each means slender tums,
And though I’ve not yet done the sums,
I invite all to this embrace,
And at this point I rest my case.



It is reported that scientists in Melbourne have shown that one hour of jogging per week can save you from an early grave and doing more makes no further improvement.

If you go jogging then you’re fit,
And you will surely benefit,
But you would think, I think you would,
That running more would do more good.

If so you’re in for a surprise,
And might not quite believe your eyes,
As you are reading in this verse,
More jogs aren’t better, neither worse.

This really does seem rather strange,
Because if you increase your range,
You would expect enhanced effect,
According to your intellect.

So if you’re anything like me,
And wondering why this should be,
Could it be that the study was,
Done down in Melbourne then because,
When they are jogging round the town,
They’re really running upside down?



It is reported that Kenyan Eliud Kipchoge has run a marathon in under two hours but special arrangements were made to make it possible.

Remember the four minute mile?
Since it was run it’s been a while,
And since then lots of other men,
Have beaten it time and again.

So far so good but now is here,
Achievement in a different sphere,
And it is the new paragon –
I mean the two hour marathon.

It’s been said it could not be done,
That no-one could so quickly run,
But now the feat can be believed,
Because it has now been achieved.

I have to say, though, on the day,
Some help was needed on the way,
With relay runners crowding round,
Because this way it has been found,
That in their slipstream Kipchoge can,
Run faster than a normal man.

As well as this he was supplied,
With water by stewards who ride,
On bicycles because that way,
He gets his drinks without delay.

So though the two hours was achieved,
By running at a higher speed,
The exercise was not quite fair,
And neither was it all that square!



It is reported that couch potatoes are twice as likely to die an early death as other types.

If you’re not fit then you should know,
It’s twice as likely that you’ll go,
The day you give your final wave,
Directly to an early grave.

The Government says we should take,
A regular short fitness break,
When we will all do, so to speak,
Of exercise two hours per week.

For this will keep us fit and well,
Avoiding Heaven, also Hell,
And giving us then since our birth,
A few more years on planet earth.

‘Potatoes’ therefore come to mind,
Of which there can be several kind;
For couch potatoes: here’s some tips –
You might quite soon have had your chips!



It is reported that climbers are being told not to leave banana skins at the tops of Britain’s highest mountain peaks as it is too cold for them to biodegrade and so they hang around being a nuisance.

If you go climbing you may find,
The trash that others leave behind,
Results in an unsightly mess,
And can then cause undue distress.

Most of the stuff that’s thrown away,
Folk think will rot within a day,
But in reality it’s found,
That when it’s left there on the ground,
It doesn’t rot, it doesn’t mould,
Because the weather’s far too cold.

So it stays there for weeks and weeks,
Defacing all the mountain peaks,
And the worst, for there are no bins,
Are discarded banana skins.

Why these should be the worst, not best,
You probably by now have guessed,
For if about the peaks they’re strewn,
As you know from an old cartoon,
It’s easy on such things to slip,
And hurtle down arse over tip.

Now on the street that’s bad enough,
No matter skins are soft or tough,
But if you step on one up high,
It’s likely you will slip and die.

So when you’re on the peaks take care,
Take rubbish bags, perhaps a spare,
And leave no thing behind of you,
For doing so is now taboo.