Category Archives: Romance

Getting wet and wild on your holiday/honeymoon. A bit of a cautionary tale.

Taken, With A Dose Of Salt.

The summer sun was dazzling bright,
The sea a’sparkling in the sunlight,
Not one solitary cooling cloud in sight
For honeymooners on the Great Australian Bight.

Up on deck after a hot ardourous night
Still this couple are feeling set to ignite,
Where, where to escape 100-degrees Fahrenheit?
The sea offers a cool promise of respite.

Skinny dipping is a sheer naked delight,
The seas ebb and flow sure to primordially excite,
But bare bodies are also sure to whet the appetite
Of Tiger, Tigers, Basking, a bloody Great White.

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Barnaby Joyce, a pric… sorry, that should be a Prince among men. He cheats, shacks up with his secretary, then muddies the waters on the issue of the paternity of the child of his mistress. What a guy.

A Right Couple.

It’s the same old story, the secretary shags bags the boss,
Barnaby’s leaving leaves his wife and kids feeling a tad cross,
But after seeing his carryings-on, they’ll accommodate his loss.

Barnaby and Vikki look uncomfortable in the spotlights glare,
Some loyal Nationals still believe it’s all their own private affair;
Yes, fair enough, till Barnaby declares he has something to share…

His weaselly words could have come straight from Big Brother,
He claims the paternity of her love-child is known to the mother!
Don’t Vikki and toss-her-under-the-bus Barnaby deserve each other?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Barnaby is wanting some action, he gets the cold shoulder instead;
Sweet Vikki promised something more than pillow talk would be said;
Are our boy Barnaby’s ears burning on his cold blasted side of the bed?

Barnaby Joyce is a true National treasure, a rare and engaging man of the land. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty. But baby, this boy ain’t ever going to be voted ‘Father of the Year.’

Talking Into His Hat.

Privately Barnaby and Vikki do make a pretty pair;
Publicly Barnaby brazenly faces the public glare,
His amorous amoral view he is happy to share-
As a politician he wonders why his public should care
About his peccadilloes when they’re his private affair?

The last (lust?) word on whipping in to inner London in December for a quick Christ-messy weekend. Accommodating desires and accommodation can be uncomfortable.

Little Room For Love In London.

I’m not saying London’s dark and gloomy
Or that the Hotel Le Cubicle is less than roomy,
Or there’s no room within to swing a pussycat,
I don’t believe we can stretch credulity to that.

Should one find one who whets one’s sexual appetite
Don’t invite her back to share the night,
One will find oneself feeling like a monk
Unless she’s happy top’n’tailing in a bunk.

Paris, city of romance, where love blows through and clings to every corner of the city’s richly historical air.

High Expectations.

Of Paris’ Bohemian quarter Lonely Planet has enlightengly writ
Even in it’s darkest corner it’s denizens look well lit,
This is one part of Paris they highly recommend you hit.
(Not recommended if you can’t face a toxicology kit.)

Low Expectorations.

Outside the Cafe Rouge we found a place to sit;
Parisiennes are a passionate people we’ll readily admit,
Young lovers stroll by, clasping hands, or tit,
Sucking face and Gauloises wherever they see fit,
Here, french kissing doesn’t mean you have to quit.

Then, when they come up for air, they breath, smile and spit!
Their aimless nonchalance does Parissiens little credit,
All this phlegmy frenchness is begining to wear, a bit,
Ah, the French have style and culture, who could doubt it?
But as I wipe my sleeve, I believe I could do without it.

Hugh Hefner laid to rest… bad choice of words, maybe?

Party Down.

As the last playboy goes to ground
There’s scarcely a dry eye to be found,
So many ladies, so inconsolably bereaved,
So, twice as many trembling breasts heaved.

Down still shocked grim faces tears roll-
Proof that Botox, sadly, does take its toll,
Every single lady arrayed in mourning dress,
Best suited for cocktails, but black, nevertheless.

Service over, and it’s time to move on,
To look forward to a future with Hef gone,
For those close, his loss leaves a huge hole to fill,
So, it’s up to the Mansion to see what’s in the will.

There’s only the smell of Chanel left in the air-
Save for one solitary person also left in despair,
One last loyal friend who truly feels the loss most,
Welling up at the passing of a warm welcoming host.

He sinks to his knees, pounds on the crypt door,
From those eyes a veritable torrent of tears pour,
The Doctors tears tumble as unceasingly as Niagara Falls,
No more exorbitant house, no more emergency Viagra calls.

When he walked through the door; In the heat of the moment we all make accommodations to base needs. Modern love, eh?

Something Special.

From across the crowded room
Their eyes met and he just knew
That this was The One to whom
His wishes must be relayed to.

He could only stop and stare,
He felt the longing, the desire,
For something so precious and rare
He’d risk the flames of Hell fire.

She suspected it was her dress
That had drawn his attention;
Nevertheless she had to confess
That was expressly the intention.

He stumbled for the words to say
Yet she did not mind him deliberating,
He might be taking a year and a day
But she stood, smiling, waiting.

Tremulously he opened his mouth,
Wordlessly he closed it again,
Confidence not so much going South
As going down the drain.

His eyes wouldn’t meet hers at all,
He tried to speak but his tongue didn’t obey,
He peered past her, at the wall
But she knew she just couldn’t walk away…

After an eternity, with stumbling voice
He spoke low, with slow deliberation,
She was delighted he’d made his choice
Though not by his mumbling conversation.

His words seemed to catch in his throat,
Yet sometimes silence can say so much,
So he wrote her a heartfelt note
And her hand trembled at his touch.

His missive written oh-so-sweetly
Was a simple but impassioned request,
She read it, and time stopped completely
As she crushed the parchment to her breast.

She gazed up at his expectant face,
His hopes, his wants could not be writ clearer,
She had waited long, with maidenly grace,
Now, smilingly she bade him to come nearer.

In his eyes she could see his yearning,
His pleasure she did not want to ignore,
And with fair cheeks hotly burning
She suggested something more…

Tho’ in the rowdy room no-one could hear
This was neither time nor place for idle chat,
When she leaned over he boldly cupped… her ear-
Said ‘Yep’ when she mouthed ‘Extra fries with that?’