Category Archives: Last word

The crown weighs heavy on the Head at times. These are right royal troubling times. So show a little sympathy, please.

Pardon The Subject.

After a fresh new dawn, clear and bright
Dark times have come for the kingdoms Lord,
Another wrong to right, another obituary to write
When he who wields the pen yields to the sword.

(I try to leaven these posts with a bit of humor. I can’t see much to smile about on some of the days these day though.)

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The princely art of diplomacy takes a king hit.

Desert Diplomacy.

So, you’re going to renew your Saudi passport?
I suggest you give it long and considered thought,
It’s no magical kingdom, it’s more a bone-dry resort
Where you may find your stay cut uncomfortably short.

I thought work couldn’t get any better, and though I rarely agree with the boss, this time I heartily do. Thanks Boss. Oh, and to Julia- thanks for nothing. (Part three of the Jilted Julia Saga.)

Exit Interview For Bossy Boots.

‘So, Julia you’ve been with us a year to the day,
Sadly the evidence says you’ve outstayed your stay,
So lets review your flaws before you go on your way
With our good wishes and an even greater redundancy pay’

‘Let us peruse the views of your ex-staff, if we may?
They can contain a clue- or two- to where you went astray,
One good point is they do say you’re real hard work and no play,
Negative traits… hmmm they do go on- and on and ON, don’t they?’

‘Complaints against you… hmm, laid in endless array,
Your words of complaint about them cause me a twinge of dismay…
No, don’t tell an employee to ‘fuck off,’ the Company prefer ‘go away,’
I agree with your staff, so no argument, Julia, just go away, without delay.
Or ‘fuck off’ as you say.’

John McCain and the president. Never got on then, not getting on now, even with one gone. Though, for once, Don seems lost for words.

Edgewise.

With the sad demise of John McCain
The President made his feelings plain,
A White House tribute he will not entertain.

Oh, he sent out his condolences with a tweet,
His hoary old ‘thoughts’n’prayers,’ short and sweet,
But a busy President has plans, so message complete.

Johns untimely passing causes Don a pang of remorse,
Don’s brooding that time, like money, is a finite resource-
Johns going’s gone and ruined his entire day at the golf course.

Our old beloved newspaper transitions to a new compact, easy to hold format. Not the news I wanted to see.

Press Pass.

I awaited the New Press with eager eyes,
They looked, downcast, at its meagre size,
I’d heard there’d be much content within;
That argument is most evidently paper thin.

Apart from yesterdays news or next weeks TV guide,
My purchase of the Press can no longer be justified,
Claiming ‘less is more’ does not jibe with this scribe;
This is a poor wee paper to which I cannot subscribe.

Time moves on, we move from place to place, lose track of people who matter. Always, you think ‘we’ll meet up again, in time.’ Then, one day, up on the screen pops a casual post, and off we go, into the blue… No humour today.

Belated.

My old school pal Robin has gone, God knows where,
He’s been gone ever so long, and I never knew,
The longer I live, the less this life seems fair,
And its too late to say ‘Robin, its been good to know you.’

David Warner, cricket maestro, mouths off. Dave takes offence to someone verbally maligning his wife on the field. This is known as ‘sledging’ and Davids team are the masters. Oh, and David does lead from the front.

A Sympathetic Ear.

Oh, Davy Warner, you poor delicate innocent little flower,
Has the onfield jolly jokey blokey jousting begun to sour?
Did De Kocks disagreeable dialogue offend the ear, so tender
Of crickets deep-dredging low down sledging main offender?

It’s understandable for Davy to blow his fuse
When his wonderous team occasionly gracelessly lose,
But even when theĀ bas Baggy Greens win
He can’t help putting his too little sense in.

So what has brought about whining Warnies petulant pout?
He can’t take the fact someone else is dishing it out;
So does he keep his counsel, as a good vice-captain ought?
Crikey, not on your ever-loving effing blinding life, sport.