Category Archives: wordplay

Roger Stone, a loyal Trumpian Republican trickster who’s lies bullyings and intimidations have landed him in State incarcer- accommodation. So, who will he turn to?

The Company You Keep.

Alas, poor miserable Roger Stone,
Into the slammer he’s been thrown,
Another Trump flunky lies in the hole
Unless Don has mercy on his craven soul.

The cells are where many dodgy deals are done,
Will Don take Rog’s call, begging Dons pardon?
In some dark sun-baked states liars get stoned,
In Dons half-baked State is perjury condoned?

What happened to peace, love and understanding? (Would you believe, this happened to a friend of mine…)

Hard Headed woman.

After another week of our boss giving us yet more grief
I headed into the cosy bar for a little Friday night relief,
It was a workmates birthday, I felt obliged to celebrate,
I thought  I’d sent a text to say I would be home at eight.

I never received her reply.

I swear I only had one beer, then a wee drop o’ scotch
When I chanced to glance down at my broken watch,
Was I deluded in thinking I could believe that bitty toy?
The night was young and so was the birthday girl-er, boy.

Strange how time slips by.

Drinks were drunk and soon my quiet night grew loud,
And then I saw a(double) vision stand out of the crowd,
Suddenly I forgot she was the daughter of my bosses brother,
Suddenly I felt no fidelity towards my significant other.

But I felt that tingle in my thigh.

I blame the drink, I blame the passion in her eyes,
But I didn’t fancy facing her, hungover, come sunrise,
I left her snoring in her room, slipped away like a jerk,
Come Monday I’d find workplace romances do not work.

And I’d kissed my job goodbye.

But in the here and now, in the cold light of the day
My usually ever-understanding partner tells me to f- go away,
Ignoring my gentle taps tap upon the door, then my heavy knocks,
No sweet-talking her round this time, she’s changed the locks.

She’s not letting this sleeping dog lie.

That hard hearted woman won’t answer text or call,
That woman’s got me beating my head against the wall,
Why, she always knew what kind of butt-headed man I am?
Now neither she nor this thick brick wall will give a damn.

Oh, what a bone-headed bloody fool am I.

Losing faith in a tin potty mouthed God? Thoughts after Don went to the fight.

Revelation.

The mildest of gosh darned blasphemies
Once drove Right(eous) evangelists to their knees,
Now that they have accepted Trump as their Savior
They’ll have to accept his unpardonable behavior.

After Stormy they really needed Gods advice,
Should not an amorous adulterer pay a stiff price?
The true believers of Trump use that inspired line-
‘To err is human, but to forgive Don, divine.’

But have even the devoutest disciples begun
To question the veracity of their ill-Chosen one?
Good Lord, what would sweet Jesus do if he heard
Don tweet and repeat that Motherf***er of a word?

The President is known to speak forthrightly
But a drunken sailor could speak more politely,
Are a few ex-believers now feeling voters remorse
Hearing Dons rude attempts at social intercourse?

I’m of a Conservative mind,
In Gods words comfort I find,
But if I use my God given-brain
I can’t forgive Don the Profane.

Hallelujah, the scales have fallen from my eyes-
His words and (Miss) deeds serve only to demonise-
That Motherf***er word rings loud and clear,
I’m the victim of believing in a false profiteer.

Now Don’s tweets are down to another level,
He sounds less demi-god than foul mouthed devil,
It’s dispiriting to find Dons not a blessing, but perverse,
And hearing that Motherf***er is a God-awful curse.

Donald Trump is moving to Florida. It seems New Yorkers have not been ‘nice’ enough to him. You can guarantee Governor DeSantis will be on his knees putting out the welcome mat.

Shady Acres.

Donald’s upping sticks and leaving his home town,
He’s set his mighty mind on moving South and down,
Sunny Florida is where he wants to go,
Home sweet home, Mar-a-Lago.

He’s heartily sick of crawling traffic and stalling rents,
Don’s grass looks greener on the other side of the fence,
Don no longer seeks the Big Apples seedy streets,
He’s at home, on the course, teeing off as he tweets.

The President steps up and strikes out at the Washington Nationals baseball game. At least he got a well deserved Bronx cheer.

Drop Out In Right Field.

Donald went out to the ballgame,
Up he stood, expecting wild acclaim,
But when they called him out by name
Back a chorus of disapproval came,
Don truly wondered who’s to blame;
The shame is, the man knows no shame.

When the team you support’s been soundly beaten, some humble pie must be sadly eaten. England 19, All Blacks 7.

Black Out.

Would our mighty All Blacks stack up?
Could our twice World Cup winners back up?
How many points agin the Poms would we rack up?

But those big bad butt-ugly Blighty boys broke our attack up,
An hour in and its either reach for the Prozac or crack up-
At full time its back to the Hotel to weep, then pack up.

Working through life’s surprising ups and downs, in a manner of speaking. Sadly, true story.

All (Out Of) Sorts.

I am never going to consume licorice ever again;
That sweet Dutch treat I can nevermore entertain,
Last night’s pack of All Sorts, now crumpled cellophane
Leaving me with cold sweats and cramping stomach pain.

I am never going to resume consuming licorice again,
This morning I daren’t stray far from my favoured domain,
My private retreat of stainless steel, white tiles and porcelain,
Were my cubicle further away I fear I couldn’t bear the strain.

I repeat, I’m never going to consume licorice again-
Every step’s a gamble between pot-luck and methane,
Now my appetite for Twizzlers I truly cannot contain,
Gimmie Montezumas Revenge and I won’t complain.