Category Archives: Regret

The President ticks off a new round of diplomacy. Sometimes you get just what you wish for. Sadly.

Friend And Foe Alike/Falling Out,

Oh Don, it’s another great deal you have done,
You’ve got those untrustworthy Iranians on the run,
Your vow to tear up the treaty was no empty threat,
Lets hope your actions aren’t something we’ll all regret.

Don wants to ensure America is Number One,
The countdown to Dons dream has now begun,
And Don, its a lesson the Iranians will not forget;
Consider your aim of America First as- Target Met.

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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.

A trip to chilly Scotland, to the big bold brassy city. Here a poor simple innocent Antipodean might easily have his head turned by the promise of hot steamy offerings… So ripe, so redolent, so seductive.

Bittersweet.

We’ve loved the life in Edinburgh, there’s so much to see and do,
Take a tour around the Old Town, take in the spectacular view,
My wife knows I’m no romantic but as our Christmas here passes
I’m seeing less through frozen specs than rose-tinted glasses.

We’ve Tiki-toured to near and far, from Loch Ness to Stockbridge,
Based in a quaint olde cottage free of all mod cons- like a fridge;
Promenaded past the Balmoral, trekked up ‘n’ down the Royal Mile,
Even the theatrics of a Spooky Spirits Tour invoked the ghost of a smile.

Yet- and yet- there is one unsavory thing I have found,
In both the New and Old Towns, on high or lower ground,
A presence lurks in the shadows, pervasive, omnipresent,
A fact of life in bonny Edinburgh I find, frankly unpleasant.

They seem to to haunt every corner, their entreaties oh so sweet,
Boldly advertising their dark seductive pleasures, pictures of deceit,
The wafting scent, the open invitation of a treat to make your day complete;
Don’t succumb, all you get is highway robbery, and tossed out into the street.

…No no no NO NO, I must explain, I don’t mean the ladies of the night;
There’s little wrong with consensual transactions, when the price is right,
No NO, I’ve never sought the dubious charms of a bargain basement tryst,
Nor the comfort and release of a half-price half-interested flip of the wrist.

Understand, if propositioned, this gentleman will decline,
The story essayed above did happen- to a ‘friend’ of mine…

The travesty I’m talking of is insidious, a blight and a scourge,
See, there’s the door, walk in if you’ve the nerve or the urge,
But beware, the broken man speaking to you strode in like a hero-
There’s nothing to suck the joy from life than supping a Caffe Nero.

The ill-practiced baristas lassitude was just the first of my concerns-
Its true that at Nero’s you’le see someone faffing about as the milk burns-
No, I didn’t leave no tip, I offered no thanks, because scarce a sip I drank,
I rate Caffe Nero bottom of the barrel, a stone-cold zero in taste- and rank.

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.’

Testy testing times for Australian cricket; I’m sorry too, but hand me a bucket.

A Sprinkle Of Sympathy?

Up they step to bare their soul,
Down every sad face the tears roll,
From once cold steely eyes they stream,
Sorry tears from the core of the Aussie team.

The bowler who first got the bad ball rolling
Has had a pregnant pause put in his bowling,
The captain, as he swats away his bitter tears
Knows he’ll be on the back foot for years.

The head coach looked set to take it on the nose
But then he sniffs and blows and ups and goes!
Add the vice-captain and his soppy spouse
And there’s not a dry eyes in the house.

Aussie cricket in a lather, thanks to a sense of bullet proof belief that cheating isn’t that big a deal. Ah, yes it is, still.

All Class Ass.

¬†Who’s that sitting in the naughty corner?
Why, it’s ex Vice-captain David Warner;
Pugnacious Davey is now counting the cost
Of cheating to win, but how much has he lost?

Its not the Vice-captaincy loss that makes him bite his lip,
It’s those millions for playing in India, and his sponsorship,
All he did was try to ‘manipulate an advantage’ to win…
For the soul of him David can’t see why that is a sin?

For Davey it’s just not cricket for 365 more days,
Time a’plenty to tote up the cost of his cheatin’ ways;
Someones gone and taken away Davey’s bat and ball
Yet it feels like he’s getting his just deserts after all.

The Australian cricket team, an example to the discerning cricket fan on how to play the game with grace and dignity- $#!+, I meant gross indignity.

Stevie Smiths Winning Ways.

Captain Courageous doesn’t mind the sledge,
It gees up the boys in green, gives ’em an edge,
And, of course, all within the rules of his fair game,
That’s always been smooth silver-tongued Smithy’s claim.

But its not a bit of banter he’s used in Cape Town,
His lapse of judgement- and actions- have let him down,
He was happy to see the ball and rules bent out of shape-
No need to peer to see the evidence, Steve, just roll the tape.

Steve won’t resign, its just a heartfelt ‘sorry, let’s move on;
‘Sorry’ sounds hollow, though, when any heart has long gone,
Fronting the world’s best team, yet he cheats wherever¬†he can,
The reason he was caught out is the only reason he’s a sorry man.