Paul Taylor decided to go/
Through Shitterton, Bell End and co/
To Twatt, all for charity,/
Provoking hilarity/
In Cockermouth and Titty Ho.///
Paul Taylor decided to go/
Through Shitterton, Bell End and co/
To Twatt, all for charity,/
Provoking hilarity/
In Cockermouth and Titty Ho.///
A wannabe discotheque jigger/
Declared “I’m a senior figure/
In Lancaster’s Duchy!”/
The doorman, all touchy,/
Said “Cough up your fiver, you ligger!”///
A global tree-hugging convention/
Gave prizes, with special attention/
To speed of embrace/
And passion, with space/
For marks for artistic invention.///
Nirvana the band’s being sued/
By one Spencer Elden, the dude/
Who as a wee tot/
Appeared in the shot/
On Nevermind’s cover, while nude.///
A council employee named Jo/
Established how far he could go/
By sticking to buses,/
Which may have its plusses,/
But can be a little bit slow.///
Parisienne Josephine Baker,/
A fabulous mover and shaker,/
Is bringing some jazz/
And razzamatazz/
Where eminent French meet their maker.///
A parrot who took a vacation/
And wound up in Waterloo Station/
Is now heard to yap/
“Keep left”, “Mind the gap”/
And tell you your train’s destination.///
The UK consumer is stricken/
By news that’ll make pulses quicken,/
For shit just got real -/
That great Brexit deal/
Caused Nando’s to run out of chicken.///
The Afghan state’s sudden defeat/
Left Western pols feeling the heat,/
But Raab’s in the clear/
For he wasn’t near,/
But on a sun-lounger in Crete./
A council constructed a mound/
That utterly failed to astound./
Its deputy chief/
Has now come to grief/
For spaffing six million pound.///