A “sex party” sounds pretty sketchy;
“Sex tarp” might make mademoiselles retchy.
But either way, you’d
Best prepare for a rude
Rebuff. Really! So crude! And so lechy!
Could be an unlucky comic for all you binary fans out there.
A “sex party” sounds pretty sketchy;
“Sex tarp” might make mademoiselles retchy.
But either way, you’d
Best prepare for a rude
Rebuff. Really! So crude! And so lechy!
Could be an unlucky comic for all you binary fans out there.
Without coming over as snooty,
How daft is American footy?
A quarterback will
Need a measure of skill
But the linemen just need a big booty.
Nothing to do with the comic, dismissive of a much-loved sport, and the dreaded eye-rhyme as well. And two days late. Ugh!
There once was a young man from Mecca
Who met a one-year-old woodpecker.
But something was lacking:
A card, shiny packing
And --gasp!-- a deluxe Black and Decker.
Terrifying or terrific?
The answer is context-specific.
Endless wings may be bitchin’
In a restaurant kitchen
But on you they’d be kind of horrific.
These star ratings’ benchmark is four:
An excellent product scores more.
Below four: Don’t bother.
Full marks: The guy’s mother has recently stopped by the store.
While being sucked into the jet
Yvette became struck with regret.
All that stress and alarm
For a rash on her arm
Which was hardly a comparable threat.
If a substance has been sent for testing
I hope I'm not rude in suggesting
You ought to disclose
What the test process shows
Before I do any ingesting.
There once was a young man from Tours
Who loved to design crazy straws.
He went online to find
Hobbyists of like mind
And they argued for weeks without pause.
I applied for a job. Being grilled,
My case sucked the guy in and spilled
Him in my chair. When he
Tried the same thing on me,
I said, “Sorry, that opening’s been filled!”
Not a comic that lent itself well to the limerick form. Still, only three behind now!
All memories eventually pass
Drifting up and apart like a gas.
What seems vivid today
Will soon vanish away
So don’t fret if you look like an ass.
Michael Phelps is a slippery phellow
For all you might might gesture and bellow
He’ll zoom up and down
Any pool in your town
Till you go nuclear and use jello.
I didn’t spend last night in bars
Or googling powerful cars.
I’m ashen of face
And a touch off the pace
Cos they’ve landed a robot ON MARS.
There was a man from Alabama
Who was sort of an in-person spammer.
At events about formal
Language, it was normal
For him to burst in and yell “GRAMMAR!”
There was a man from Camber Sands
Who knew just what to do with his hands.
He let them both dangle
At a very slight angle
That cool, cool cat from Camber Sands.
“Where d’you see yourself in five years, scout?”
As if you were in any doubt
DON’T sit in the chair
And awkwardly stare
Staying there as you wait to find out.
The great post-Olympic catch-up begins. It's a marathon, not a sprint. But I intend to sprint the entire marathon.
Hello, readers!
Sorry I haven't been posting just lately. I have been taking time out to enjoy the London Olympic Games, dividing my support between "Team GB" and my spiritual home, The Land Where The Bong Tree Grows.
I will be back soon, though, posting limericks about XKCD like some kind of nonsense-poetry/webcomic Usain Bolt.