I must get back to my desk again, this lunchtime has flown by,
And all I ask is that if I’m late, I won’t catch the boss’s eye;
And if I’m ill and white as a sail with limbs and body shaking,
And I call in sick (third time this month), my boss won’t think I’m faking.

I must get back to my desk again, and complete my tasks with pride.
Because if I don’t, I’m pretty sure my leave request will be denied;
And all I ask is that someday it’s acknowledged I’ve been trying,
And I get the promotion for which Smith and Jones are vying.

I must get back to my desk again, to the constant corporate strife,
I hope and pray my meagre pay can feed my obese kids and wife;
And all I ask is that today, the ****** printer won’t keel-over,
And that retirement comes swiftly, so this nightmare can be over.

My garden once was green and lush.
Until on mass there came a mush
of leaf munching slimy things.
Vegetation annihilating thugs…
…an invasion of Spanish Slugs.

I’ve tried to stop them but I can’t.
They’ve decimated every plant.
In my shrubbery they dine like kings.
Sombrero wearing baronets…
…proudly clacking their castanets.

Monday’s child will slap your face,
Tuesday’s child is a disgrace,
Wednesday’s child stamps on your toe,
Thursday’s child just won’t go,
Friday’s child is most unforgiving,
Saturday’s child won’t work for a living,
And as for the child that’s born on a Sunday -
– they’ll tell you lies and steal your pay.

I post on my wall when I’m Happy.
I post on my wall when I’m sad.
I post on my wall for no reason at all,
and upload snaps of food I’ve just had.

I’m ever so popular on facebook.
I’ve got nine-hundred-and-eighty best friends.
What? – no, of course I’ve not met them all!
That’s a custom our deep-bond transcends.

You whine, you moan, complain and groan,
on & on, a cyclic whinging drone.
I listen patiently – what a glutton.
But how I wish you had a mute button.

A fellow got into a fix
Trying to teach his dog some new tricks
His canine named Rover
Refused to roll over
And seemed totally blind to thrown sticks

On warm sunny mornings, down by the canals,
trudge humans with canines – their supposed best pals.
I often wonder which is the smarter species.
The one that can’t read, at the front of the lead?
Or the one on-tow, clutching a small bag of faeces?

There was a young man named John Bowman
Who was renowned as a bit of a showman
He practiced Yoga
Dressed in a toga
Convinced that he was a real Roman

It
Bit!

I lusted after Deborah from my first day at school.                
As did every other boy, her looks made them all drool.
On Valentines I sent a card despite my inhibition.
She responded with a churlish smile that set me on a mission,
I asked her for a date and she replied “well, that depends…
…in fact, on second thoughts, I’d rather we were Just Friends”

A problem shared is a problem halved,
Or at least that’s what we’re told.
But the fact is my dear, that just isn’t true
When the problem is your cold.

Rugged and handsome with perennial tan
Distinctive and stylish, a real ladies man
Wining and dining all goes on the tab
Along with “entertainment” in the back of a cab

An invite for coffee at his hotel
This Romeo won’t kiss and tell
An exquisite encounter, but where will it end
That all depends on how much you spend

Contract sealed and ready for action
Destination set for satisfaction
Even though he may be fit to burst
He makes sure his customers always…
…come first

A young gentlemen named Grant Cragnell
Sought debauchery in Newport Pagnell
He got terribly drunk
Before sharing his bunk
With a ****** and a brown cocker-spaniel

Mirror mirror on the wall,
why are all my clothes too small?
Please mask my cellulite and fat profusion,
with the magic of optical delusion.

Flimsy, flouncy little nightie
Which doth cling e'er so tightly
To your pendulous, saggy ****
And your smelly hairy bits
Keeping all just out of sight
Through the hours of the night
Covering things so unsightly
Thank god for that little nightie

I don’t care what
the experts say,

sleep is such
elusive prey,

except when I’m at
work. But hey…

…can’t sleep at
night, so I crash in
the day.

Laudable, fine, upstanding folk.  
Year on year they shoulder the yolk.
Illustrious and kind,
Noble and refined,
Genial, with no wish to provoke.

Sincere as sincere as can be.
Honest – well, as honest as me.
Intelligent and witty,
Trustworthy and gritty.
Shame all this is pure fantasy.

Morning; I awake
with stiffness in my
lank legs.
Yesterdays long run
has taken its toll
on my
ungrateful, ageing
body.

Announcing your arrival
in a high-pitch buzzing-tone.
As a tactic for survival,
you're seldom on your own.

Red lumps display where you have been.
Often felt, though rarely seen.

But if I catch a glimpse of you,
my little vampire chum,
I'll make sure you get what you're due,
and squash you with my thumb!

half his age
and nearly twice his
height
pretty as a picture
but none too bright

he loves her open
arms (and legs) –
his “****”
spread-eagled on his
sports-car’s bonnet

she likes him for
his open mind and
open heart
but most of all –
his open wallet

she intends to stick
with him through
thick and thicker
and is most
“concerned” about
his dodgy ticker

I’d love to sing proud and sing loud
But I’m embarrassed I might draw a crowd
So in public I’m dour
Though I sing in the shower
It’s the only time singing loud is allowed