Pets and their owners

They say that pets look like their owners… This is called “my cat’s a sexy motherf*cker”

Your dachshund may be a darling
And your terrier drive a truck
You may think your pet’s amazing…
But mine’s as sexy as f*ck

So your gerbil’s got some game
And your schnauzer isn’t a schmuck
Your pets each have their qualities…
Mine’s as sexy as f*ck

You may really dig your degu
Think your Pekinese is full of pluck
I couldn’t be any happier for you…
But mine’s as sexy as f*ck

Your ferret may bring you good fortune
And your black cat carry good luck
I’ve won the bloody lottery, mate…
‘cause mine’s as sexy as F*CK!

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My cat, this afternoon

 

Limerick – the Wiccan from Wigan

Haven’t done a daft poem or limerick for a while… “inspired” by Lily’s use of the word “Wiccan” in a comment yesterday, this is what my brain does with a word like that. Apologies… 🙂

A worrisome Wiccan from Wigan
Got anxious when he got his jig on
Till one glorious day
And a roll in the hay
Led Mary to exclaim “What a biggun!”

 

 

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The Lift (poem)

Hold the lift! Hold the lift! You cry,
Sprinting through reception with a mad glint in your eye.

Wait for me! you plead, squeezing yourself in
As the ketchup from your butty dribbles slowly down your chin

There is squishing and squashing; lots of fuss and fussing
As you reach through the throng to finger your floor’s button

The doors stutter shut, and close eventually
Creaking and groaning to an uncomfortable degree

Up, up we go, then stop at the first floor
More creaking and groaning from the opening of the door

Ketchup Man bounds out, having reached his destination,
Not a glance behind him at the silent consternation

As every single person, still trapped within that box
Forms the same judgement, the same cruel set of thoughts

Everyone is thinking, but I’m the one who says it:
“He could’ve used the stairs, the lazy, idle git!”

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