Brain cogs 3

It is reported that scientists at Aston University in Birmingham have grown miniature human brains in the laboratory which may, in time, offer a cure for dementia.

“Excuse me, would you like to see,
Some of the human brains that we,
Have on display for you to try,
And run them over with your eye.

You’ll see we have got several types,
Plain, spotted and a few with stripes,
So if you’d like to try a few,
We’ll demonstrate what each can do.

First thing to say as you peruse,
Is that you do not have to choose,
The same as you have had before,
And in fact I would now implore,
That you choose one that works for you,
And adds a bit to your IQ.

To do this is, of course, allowed,
Will make you stand out from the crowd,
And though your IQ isn’t poor,
We all could use just that bit more.

So we’ve all sorts – this one’s Einstein –
And these ones know their beer and wine,
But the brain which will most impress,
Though pricey – we can’t sell for less –
Is one which regarding info,
Knows everything there is to know.

The name of this, you might have guessed,
For it is really quite the best,
Is Google – it’s a sort of nerd,
And it knows every single word,
That ever has been written down –
That’s adjective or verb or noun.

So this expensive brain could be,
Exactly what they want to see,
If you go to them for a job,
’Cos you’ll beat any other slob.

But Google’s plan’s to automate,
And they may say you are too late,
For when their strategy’s complete,
Most brains will then be obsolete.”



Wine red

It is reported that European Commissioners are travelling extravagantly and being paid expenses without having to submit receipts.

So what is new? This is folklore,
And we have heard it all before;
The leaders of the great EU,
Have always known just what to do,
To travel in the way that’s best,
No matter North, South, East or West.

So when they fly they travel first,
Which means their leg-room’s more dispersed,
And though there is Champagne on tap,
There’s that bit more room for a nap.

But sometimes first class is too plain,
So they might want to think again,
And since there’s still more money yet,
They might quite like a private jet.

Now private jets do not come cheap,
And though the EU’s pockets deep,
They’re struggling now to pay the fare,
To keep their people in the air.

So what to do? The cash is short,
And still more tickets must be bought;
Perhaps they could tell Mrs May,
In Brexit she will have to pay.

A hundred billion might do,
The UK paying isn’t new,
So they will know just how to send,
The money for them all to spend.

The Brits will doubtless moan and bitch,
And go on endlessly ’bout which,
Clause in the treaty says that they,
Have anything at all to pay.

They’ll say the figure is too high,
But you know just as well as I,
That if your spending at their rate,
A hundred billion isn’t great!

Image – Les Haines / Flickr



It is reported that millions of Dutch eggs and egg products made from them have been destroyed owing to contamination with a banned type of insecticide.

You probably like eating eggs,
Produced to all the rules and regs,
Which if they are all followed will,
Prevent us all from falling ill.

Britain produces most itself,
They’re on the supermarket shelf,
Where you will find hens’ eggs galore,
But please don’t drop them on the floor.

But some have come from Holland and,
Might have been processed, cooked or canned,
And these contain insecticide,
Which isn’t good poached, boiled or fried.

So cooked eggs here have been withdrawn,
But in Europe it’s more forlorn,
As millions of eggs are smashed,
Whites, yolks and shells completely trashed.

The biggest omelette, I suppose,
Could have been made with all of those,
But even with a proper plan,
You simply couldn’t find a pan.

And if you did what would you do?
The eggs are still not good for you,
So if you did the omelette eat,
You might quite soon your maker meet!



It is reported that North Korea has threatened to fire missiles over Japan to land in the sea near the US military bases in Guam by the middle of August and that Donald Trump has promised extreme retaliation.

Two overweight men with bad hair,
Determined to the whole world scare,
Keep making comments rather rash,
That they will each the other smash.

The young one’s done this all along,
(He lives in that place starts with ‘Pyong’)
It’s not clear why he makes his boast,
Which could end up with him as toast.

While he’s mad and perhaps insane,
I can’t see what he’s got to gain,
But threatening to attack that isle,
Is certain Donald Trump to rile.

Now Trump we know is so thin-skinned,
That he threatens that fire and wind,
Will come down on folk fat or thin,
When any person crosses him.

The misdemeanour may be slight,
But even so Trump gets uptight,
And several people have been fired,
Including ones he himself hired.

So if someone should threaten war –
A threat he hasn’t had before –
Because a war is not so nice,
You would expect he’d take advice.

But we know that is not Trump’s way,
And so he pronounced yesterday,
That fire and fury’s not enough,
So now he would get really tough;
He thought a bit and then he said,
“There would be big trouble instead.”

When asked what that meant, should folk flee?
He said, “Just wait. You’ll see. You’ll see.”
Which really means without much doubt,
He hasn’t quite yet worked it out.

So we must wait with bated breath,
To see if this fight’s to the death,
Or if his tweets show that he’s brave,
And Twitter can the planet save.


Christmas Fair 26-11-2010

It is reported that Sport Direct has issued an order that bans its employees from speaking foreign languages at work – including Welsh. Not sure about Scotland; perhaps he hasn’t taken on the Sturgeon yet.

Mike Ashley has the strongest views,
Including language to be used,
In his warehouses, vans and shops,
To stop him getting in a strop.

All words said must in English be,
No German, Spanish, or Chinee,
And this applies to any role,
And those employees on parole.

One reason given’s HSE –
What other reason could there be? –
So everyone will understand,
While working in the Sports D land,
Just where to go and what to do,
And when it’s best to use the loo.

And also they should be polite,
With all the words they read and write,
So customers more likely will,
Keep coming back to use the till.

But some folk who in Welsh can speak,
Have said it is a real cheek,
And in fact it’s completely wrong,
They can’t speak in their native tongue.

Perhaps they know swear words in Welsh,
Like ‘Daion fi’ or ‘Blendithiwych fy enaed’*,
So if they want a private moan,
They can use swear words of their own.

So now a dispute may arise,
Court cases could materialise,
’Til one side stops and just gives in,
’Cos this is a ‘Storm mewn tywyn!’**

* Like ‘goodness me!’or ‘bless my soul!’
**‘Storm in a …….’
* And anyway, it seems nothing in English rhymes with ‘Welsh’.

Image – Martin Pettitt / Flickr / Creative Commons


Skull smoking

It is reported that people who are overweight or drink or smoke save the government money because the tobacco and alcohol taxes they pay plus the pensions saved owing to their shorter lives far exceed the cost of their medical treatment.

It had been thought that it was good,
To stay as healthy as we could,
And this was helped by staying thin,
Not smoking and not drinking gin.

So governments tried to persuade,
Us to drink only lemonade,
To stay thin, therefore not much Coke,
And definitely not to smoke.

But consequences then arose,
Because if we avoid all those
Bad things which might be thought a sin,
Not so much tax comes rolling in.

And then to make things even worse,
The late arrival of our hearse,
Means we will need our pension for,
Much longer than it was before.

And during this late lease of life,
Senility will be so rife,
That we will all need constant care –
More cost for someone else to bear.

This cannot work, you must agree,
The government’s no cash you see;
The situation’s not robust,
And so we’ll likely all go bust.

The answer, though, is pretty plain,
The government must yet again,
Review the advice that it gives,
Concerning how we all should live.

So they’ll say what we have to do,
Is smoke and drink and party too,
So that we all get big and fat,
And pop our clogs by fifty flat!


Beach chairs

It is reported that Cornwall is a favourite holiday destination for Germans but they think it includes Devon as well.

The Germans like, it seems to me,
To holiday beside the sea,
Because, I think, since days of yore,
They don’t have all that much seashore.

They travel in their thousands so,
Cornwall is where they want to go,
And generally to get there they,
Must pass through Devon on the way.

They stop for tea, it’s likely ham,
Then scones with cream first then the jam,
But later on when farther west,
The cream tea they can there digest,
Is upside down, the cream’s on top,
The same in each and every shop.

The reason is, though they don’t know,
The two counties are different so,
For scones with cream and fruit conserve,
Tradition dictates how they’re served.

This might seem like some sort of ruse,
Designed to foreigners confuse,
And if so then it works a treat,
Confusing them each time they eat.

But Germans don’t like to be tricked;
A sense of humour? – Weiss es nicht!
So they drive on and when they reach,
Their destination – that’s the beach –
They do what they’ve learnt in the Med,
And commandeer all the sunbeds.

They spread their towels, no eyelid bat,
“Don’t touch now or there’ll be a spat!”
But they forgot, whereas in Spain,
The rain falls mainly on the plain,
In Cornwall, even when it’s fair,
It’s likely pouring everywhere.

So sunbeds are not hard to get,
Because they’re always soaking wet,
And if a towel’s left thereon,
It quite soon will have undergone,
A change that will be for the worse,
Causing, perhaps, a German curse!

Image – juicyverve / Flickr