COBWEBS IN SW19

tennis-balls_tennis-page

It is reported that viewers have been complaining to the BBC about spiders’ webs over the camera lenses at Wimbledon.

The Beeb has not much cash to spend,
Which is why it’s brought to an end,
Free licence for those still alive,
And in excess of seventy-five.

And elsewhere it’s been cutting back,
Though very few have got the sack,
But now that Wimbledon’s on screen,
With spending here they are less mean.

Or so we thought but it’s been found,
That spiders webs that can be round,
Are being left on cameras which,
Are filming games on court (not pitch).

The reason for this is quite plain,
For it is spiders in the main,
That spin the webs to catch their teas,
On cameras if there are no trees.

But these webs can get in the way,
Of viewers watching people play,
And these folk can get quite annoyed,
If things like this they can’t avoid.

So come on BBC and dust
Your camera lenses as you must,
And then those who their licence pay,
Will find the service quite OK.

STUPID BOY! (Captain Mainwaring, Dad’s Army)

Capt Mainwaring 34285482783_0529c4de02_b

It is reported that Jeremy Corbyn allegedly called the Prime Minister a ‘stupid woman’ in the Commons chamber. He denies it and says he said ‘stupid people’ but lip reading, even by the inexpert, appears to show the former rather than the latter.

The panto season’s in full swing,
With all the humour that it brings,
With lots of phrases, lots of words,
Exaggerating the absurd.

So in the Commons Mrs May,
At PMQs thought she would say,
A string of well-known panto lines,
To make fun without using rhymes.

But Mr Corbyn wasn’t pleased,
He doesn’t like thus being teased,
So then he thought he’d take his cue,
From Mainwaring like others do.

But he had to adapt a word,
From ‘stupid boy’ to what you heard,
Which some said was beyond the pale,
And more or less ‘stupid female’.

It took him time in his reply,
To work out how to best deny,
The words he used but it was clear,
The lips said what you couldn’t hear.

Lip reading experts all agreed,
‘Woman’ was what he said indeed,
For saying ‘people’ failed to fit,
The movement of his mouth or lip.

So in this quandary what to do?
The Speaker didn’t have a clue,
“Although it might seem quite absurd,
I have to take him at his word.”

Perhaps that’s it, perhaps it’s not,
These people argue such a lot;
This episode might run and run,
So there might be more panto fun.

So when you’re speaking do take care,
Some people might be watching there,
And if you plan to say things rude,
Do try to lip readers elude.

Image – Matt Brown / Flickr

SLOW DOWN PLEASE!

TV

It is reported that the Broadcasting Committee of Advertising Practice is to ban words speeding across television screens faster than 300 words per minute so that they can be read, especially by more elderly people.

We’ve all seen adverts where they show,
Words on the screen that seem to go,
From right to left at breakneck speed,
And far too fast for us to read.

Well, soon such things will be no more,
For better practice is in store,
As regulators, with a frown,
Decree the words must now slow down.

And that is it, they must comply,
Or else the judge will ask them why,
And if there is no good excuse,
Then he quite likely will deduce,
Their action constitutes a crime,
And issue them a hefty fine.

This new approach will help us all,
But we’ll still need the wherewithal,
To buy whatever it might be,
That on the TV screen we see.

So wear your specs and read quite fast,
From the first word until the last,
And though such words can make you bored,
Don’t spend more than you can afford.

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

Skeleton in cupboard 4179849469_a018931f0e_b

It is reported that several celebrities have been rejected from the BBC television programme because their family histories are deemed to be too boring. Rejections include Cherie Blair (who was disappointed), Michael Parkinson (who told them it would be boring) and Eamonn Holmes (who is Irish).

This programme I have never seen,
Gets famous people (not the Queen),
To tell the story of their past,
Which has been researched to the last.

They hope there’ll be some interest there,
As they search round for every heir,
Looking for something folk may find,
Of interest now of any kind.

In rare cases this might occur,
And even sometimes cause a stir,
But mostly it’s all pretty bland,
With ancestors not all that grand.

In some such cases they get stopped,
Their episode now quickly dropped,
But what seems really strange to me,
Is why any person would see,
Interest in what they have to say –
It’s pretty boring anyway.

So if you watch this stuff you’ll find,
Histories of almost any kind
Of person likely will be full,
Of things both tedious and dull.

So when it’s on just watch the news,
Right there you will find people’s views,
It might be better, might be worse,
And here you can read it in verse!

Image – Andrew Ballantyne

TIME’S UP

Dimbleby

It is reported that David Dimbleby is to retire from chairing Question Time as he turns eighty; so who will fill his shoes?

Old Dimbleby’s been on our screens,
Till slightly later than his teens,
And now he says he wants to go,
Now that he’s seventy or so.

The Question, therefore, at this Time,
Which I am asking now in rhyme,
Is who will fill the chairman’s chair,
When Question Time is on the air?

So three contenders, ladies all,
With resumés more large, than small,
Seem keen to get this most plum job,
Ahead of any other slob.

There’s Kirsty Young and Kirsty Wark,
Mishal Husain – all three can talk,
And probably they could all do,
What the producer tells them to.

But what of others, maybe men?
The chairman could be male again;
There’s Humphrys, John and Paxman, J,
Or have these stalwarts had their day?

For sure they’re getting on in years,
As far as I know are not queers,
But maybe in this day and age,
Because they’d get a public wage,
They might be excluded you see,
For being not LBGT.

The difficulty is today,
When you take on someone you pay,
There are so many things you must,
Consider, not to be unjust.

So as the interview rounds go,
To pick the winner for the show,
They might not need to be too wise,
As long as they can sympathise.

Image – Laurence Boyce at English Wikipedia / Creative commons

SHOULDN’T HAVE GONE TO SPECSAVERS

Car parking

It is reported that gender stereotyping in advertisements is to be banned, including some Specsavers ones. What next?

Some ads can be a dreadful bore,
You wonder what they show them for;
They do so little to entice,
Apart from telling you the price.

But others can be lots of fun,
A few of them can run and run,
Though many have now caused a gripe,
If they portray a stereotype.

So, women who cannot reverse,
A Scotsman polishing his purse,
And men who follow football scores,
Instead of helping with the chores,
Will all be banned and that’s just four,
And I think that there could be more.

“But wait!” you say, “It’s OTT,
And no offence assumed by me;
To laugh at gender stereotype,
Is really just all part of life.”

But spoilsports say, “Someone, somewhere,
Will take offence when such ads air,
So all our adverts ought to be,
Composed with sensitivity.

And if that means you cannot laugh,
At females whose driving is naff,
Well, that’s the price you have to pay,
For living in this world today!”

Image – maxpixel.net/Parking-Mistake-Car-Frustrated-Red-Failure-Little-961707

DAD’S ARMY

Dads Army

It is reported that Barclays Bank in the Suffolk town of Framlingham mistakenly spelt the town name as Framlington on the new sign outside its branch. Fortunately, with a bit of quick thinking, the manager, one Captain Mainwaring(?), was able to save face.

You’ve heard of Walmington-on-Sea,
For, in the past, it used to be,
On TV screens for our delight,
On pretty much each Sat’day night.

One day the butcher, ame of Jones,
Who deals in meat, fat, tripe and bones,
Went in the bank and what he saw,
Resulted in drop of the jaw.

That is to say he was amazed,
But with his background wasn’t fazed,
For when in the Sudan you’ve fought,
There isn’t much, I would have thought,
Could not be dealt with – like a threat –
With musket, gun or bayonet.

He didn’t wait, he rushed inside,
Saw Mainwaring puffed up with pride,
Who asked Jones if he liked the sign,
Which had been there since half past nine.

“Don’t panic!” then the butcher said,
“I saw the sign and then it read,
But misspelt is Walmington’s name,
As Framlington – not quite the same!”

The manager then dashed outside,
Intent? To stifle injured pride.
He feared that he might turn bright red,
But thought a bit and then he said:

“I’m glad you spotted our new sign,
It was a small idea of mine;
The misspelt name is meant to be,
So that if Nazi Germany,
Should try to invade from afar,
They really won’t know where they are.

This will give us the upper hand,
As we defend our coast and land;
And I think my idea’s so good,
That Winston Churchill really should,
In his mind have it uppermost,
And use it up and down the coast.”

Jones looked askance but didn’t say,
He hadn’t thought of it that way,
But Mainwaring had played an ace,
And, for the moment, saved his face!

This hasn’t really much to do,
With Barclays Bank that’s known to you,
And the truth is, the faulty sign,
Had been replaced by dinner time.