Savile Row

It is reported that Philip May, spouse of the Prime Minister of the same name, has bought a new suit specially for his forthcoming meeting with Melania Trump, spouse of the American President of the same (but different) name.

When Donald Trump is here this week,
His entourage will be quite sleek,
Especially his lady wife,
About whom gossip can be rife.

As often happens on these trips,
While all the leaders get to grips,
And talk – because that’s why they came –
Their wives and husbands do the same.

So in this current case in point,
Since we don’t want to disappoint,
The Mr May of whom we know,
Decided that he ought to go,
And freshen up his wardrobe which,
Is easy ’cos he’s rather rich.

But, nonetheless, he’s frugal too,
So since with shoes he can make do,
And without spending too much loot,
He went to buy himself a suit.

With hat not needed ’cos it’s warm,
A suit is really quite the norm,
And so our Mr May did go,
To get his made in Savile Row.

He got it home, it fitted well,
It was the business, you could tell,
And he was happy now that he,
Could match his wardrobe up with she.

But what he hadn’t quite worked out,
Was that Trump’s wife without a doubt,
Would bring a hundred gowns to wear,
And probably a few to spare.

She was, of course, a model once,
And in huge wardrobes oft ensconced,
So even with his suit replete,
With her he might not quite compete.

But, anyway, he’s tried his best,
For spouse of leader of the West,
And verdicts when the two do meet?
For that you’ll have to read the tweet!

Image – Mike_Fleming / Flickr



It is reported that about forty schools in England have banned the wearing of skirts by girls.

Traditionally girls wear skirts,
But whereas such things once were certs,
With PC in this day and age,
Alternatives are all the rage.

And that means trousers, like as not;
In many schools the girls have got
To wear them while they’re in the school,
Because that’s often now the rule.

If they don’t like it that’s just tough,
So anyone who’s had enough,
Will have to go to Scotland where,
The kilt’s for anyone up there.

And if there someone should decide,
This symbol of the Scottish pride,
Should not be worn from Banff to Leith,
There’s a good chance he’ll lose his teeth!


Bag shopping

It is reported that shoppers in Australia have been attacking checkout staff because of a nationwide ban on the supply of single-use plastic bags.

Australians are mostly nice,
So much you’d like to meet them twice,
But recently a few, I think,
Were acting like the worse for drink.

They were quite sober, though, I’m told,
But with goods that had just been sold,
They needed bags, of plastic kind,
And there were none that they could find.

Such bags, it seems, had just been banned,
Across most of the Aussie land,
And so henceforth and from today,
For stronger bags they have to pay.

This went down like a lead balloon,
And some of them were very soon,
Attacking shop employees that,
We’re simply at their checkouts sat.

You will agree with me, I know,
That it’s not right to have a go,
Like this and so they should desist,
And not behave like they are p*ssed.

So when you’re shopping do beware,
There may be loutish people there,
Who all too soon can lose their rag,
If they can’t find a plastic bag.

The brewing people likely know,
And therefore when for beer you go,
You’ll find that it is orthodox,
To pack them in a cardboard box.

So drinkers can this new rule heed,
Because the box is all they need,
To show that they can do things right,
Including not to start a fight.



It is reported that a vegan woman in Cornwall has found a frog in a lettuce she purchased from Aldi. The shop has offered her a 36 pence refund.

Aldi’s a shop that we all know,
Where lots of people like to go,
To buy their groceries each week,
And hope they can some bargains seek.

The choice of brands might not be wide,
Though they have specials on beside,
And when it comes to veg and fruit,
They hope that no-one will dispute,
The claim they make to be as good,
As any supermarket should.

But recently, it has been told,
An Aldi lettuce which was sold,
To Mrs X from Cornwall had,
A foreign body which was bad.

The foreign body proved to be,
A little frog that had, maybe,
Got in there when the veg was grown,
And made the lettuce its new home.

We think the frog was still alive,
And wrapped up so that it could thrive,
Doing the things that frogs might do,
And not packed up in CO2.

The shop said it was mortified,
Because the creature might have died,
And they had recompense now made,
Refunding thirty-six pence paid.


Nicholas Parsons

It is reported that Nicholas Parsons has been presenting Just a Minute for over fifty years and has only missed one episode; he is ninety-four.

The format might be slightly old,
Appealing to old folk all told,
But like The Archers or The Street,
Programmes like this always compete,
For records – to be Number One,
And trying not to to be outdone.

The Archers has the longest run,
On radio in Christendom,
And Coronation Street might be,
The longest running on TV.

And with this latter comes Bill Roache,
A record there beyond reproach,
Because it’s pretty clear that he,
Has been the longest on TV.

But for the record we must go,
And check up on The Archers so,
Lesley Saweard who’s still alive,
Has done, in years, now sixty-five!

But back to Parsons, what of he?
In years he’s only done fifty.

Well, yes he has but in that time,
As you will soon learn in this rhyme,
There’s just one show he failed to do,
Because that day he had the flu.

Is that a record? Likely so;
Suggests he is a real pro;
And it seems unlikely to me,
That someone could have beaten he.

Image – James Cridland / Flickr / Creative Commons



It is reported that there is a heatwave.

The temperature has been so warm,
And far far hotter than the norm;
For several days it now seems set,
But not quite breaking records yet.

With it so hot things don’t go right,
More so by day than in the night,
Or one could say in any tongue,
These things that don’t go right go wrong.

The list is pretty much well-known,
Like water shortage in the home,
Though this time that is less a pain,
’Cos we’ve just gone through six months’ rain.

Instead, this time up on the moor,
Are fires we haven’t had before,
And while the fires proceed apace,
The water’s all in the wrong place.

The firemen have all done their best,
To douse the flames before them, lest
They might just spread too far and wide,
And burn up the whole countryside.

And so we hope they will succeed,
Will have the flames out soon indeed,
So they can then return to base,
And fight them in some other place.

But other things like buckled tracks,
Tarmac that melts and opens cracks,
Most people would say these all pale,
Compared to shortages of ale.

For there is little CO2,
A fact that you, by now, all knew,
And this fact is now quite the worst,
If you just want to quench your thirst!



It is reported that a vicar in Wales has stopped ringing the church bell at eight o’clock on Sunday mornings so that his parishioners can have a lie in instead of coming to church. He says he sympathises with people who have got drunk the night before.

The Welsh, it seems, can get so tight,
When they go out on Sat’day night,
That in the morning they prefer,
Their getting up time to defer.

They certainly don’t want a bell,
Whose only purpose is to tell,
Inebriated folk like they,
To get up, go to church and pray.

Then enter Reverend Brown, stage right,
Who seems to understand their plight,
For he says there will be no shock,
For of his bells he’s taken stock,
And he’ll make sure they play no tune,
At least until the afternoon.

The drunks are happy, they can sleep,
Though, probably, just in a heap,
Knowing that there will be no sound,
Until the afternoon comes round.

But consequence of being kind,
The Reverend Brown, I think, might find,
That if his bells are silent then,
His congregation – women, men –
Might shrink a bit in numbers so,
Collection takings could be low.

I don’t know if he’s thought of this,
But since they’ve all been on the p*ss,
Perhaps he should go gown the pub,
And ask the landlord for a sub.

The landlord might just answer, ‘No’,
In which case Brown might have to go,
Reminding him, if he declines,
That those yobs buying ales and wines,
Might then find once again that they,
Are woken up at break of day.

And then this breaking of the peace,
Which everyone had hoped would cease,
Might be, the Vicar might persuade,
Not so conducive to his trade.

The drunken louts might then rebel,
At risk of going down to Hell,
And if he won’t provide a sub,
They might boycott both church and pub!